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The Rooster's Crow

Convicted by the rooster’s crow,
I was his friend, now was his foe.
Jesus, my master, stood so near,
yet I found no comfort, only fear.

Thrice they asked me if I knew,
“Weren’t you one of his followers few?”
Thrice I said, “I do not know!”
I denied him so they’d let it go.

Just before, for him I’d fought,
brandishing the sword I’d brought.
“No more of this!” he commanded strong.
“That path to the kingdom is deeply wrong.”

Distantly, I tracked his path,
hopeful to see an outpouring of wrath.
“Thy kingdom come,” he taught us to pray.
In the hands of the enemy, was today The Day?

Yet anxious, fearful confusion reigned.
His hands in shackles, my heart grew pained.
What’s going on? Can this be God’s plan?
The Son of God tried, convicted by man?

My faith grew weak, my trust was maimed.
In my heart, fear rose untamed.
Thrice my tongue in folly lied.
Thrice my lips revealed my pride.

And then it came, the word of God.
Exposed was I, a coward, fraud.
The word of God, the shrill of woe
came clearly in the rooster’s crow.

Then I looked. His eyes caught mine.
Face to face with God divine.
Guilt and shame welled up inside.
I ran away and bitterly cried.

Jesus, my master, had stood so near,
yet I found no comfort, only fear.
I was his friend, now was his foe.
Convicted by the rooster’s crow.

As my lips spoke deceit that day,
the rooster boldly spoke the way.
In repentance we must come to him
to confess our sins, so dark, so grim.