He will me help, and me relieve,
And will increase my faith also,
If weakly I can but believe,
But from this place I'll never go.
But Peter said, How can that be,
How dar'st thou look him in the face?
Such horrid sinners even as thee,
Can have no courage to get grace.
Here none come in but they that's stout,
And suffer'd have for the good cause,
Like unto thee are keeped out,
For thou hast broke all Moses' laws
Peter, she said, I do appeal,
From Moses and from thee also,
With him and you I'll not prevail,
But to my Saviour I will go.
Indeed of old you were right stout,
When you did cut off Malchus' ear,
But after that ye went about,
And a poor maiden did you fear.
Take home the whissel of your groat,
Was it your own or Paul's good sword,
When that your courage was so keen,
You were right stout upon my word,
When you would fain at fishing been,
For ere the crowing of the cock,
You did deny your master thrice,
For all your stoutness turn'd a block,
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