The Conversion of Peter by Eliza H. Morton

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Mar 30, 1916

The Conversion of Peter

By Eliza H. Morton

ELIZA H. MORTON.

A rabble crew around a fire, and then, A challenge sharp and clear, and then, alas! Alas for Peter! for he turned his back Upon his Lord, and uttered wicked words. O shame! Three times he thus denied his faith. Three times he cursed and swore. O shame! O shame! And then he turned and met an answering look Of love and sad reproach that pierced his heart.

He stumbled forth into the night, but ah, No rest for him! He sought the garden dark, And there he wept and prayed, and then his way Was straight to Calvary. Behind a rock He watched the jeering crowd, and watched the face That haunted all his hours,—the face of Him He loved. He saw the cruelty of men, And felt the nails that crushed through flesh and bone, And in his side he felt the spear they thrust Into his Lord. The horror made his blood Run cold, and yet he dared not cry aloud. He trembled with the trembling earth, and saw The sun refuse to shine. O day of gloom! He saw the pallid body of his Lord Borne from the cross, away, away. He wished That he could gently touch those nail- pierced hands, And help in those last acts of tender love, But he was left alone.

O whither now? His hope was gone, his honor dead. Not one Of those with whom he long had walked, he knew, Would care to grasp his traitor hand. Ah, no! No place for him, and so he staggered forth Into the night; and oh, how long that night! Gehenna, with its lurid flames, was near, And in his soul he felt the awful woe, The tortures of the lost, destroyed at last.

But hark! What sound was that? A figure dark, Fleeing as for life. A swinging rope! An awful crash! And then a stillness strange As death, for Judas lay upon the rocks,— A traitor, dead, and gruesome in his death.

And Peter turned and fled, and sought the room, The upper room, where oft with Jesus he Had met. With trembling limbs before the door He stood, and lo, it opened wide. “Come in! Come in! We need you, Peter, here,” were words That fell like music on his ear, and he Went gladly in, confessing all his sin. “O could I tell him of my love,” he sobbed, “But that can never be.” Compassion filled The hearts of all; for well they knew they, too, Had sinned. The day wore on, that Sab- bath day, A day to be remembered long; also the night; And early ere the sun appeared they rose.

But hark! Another sound of rushing feet; And Mary Magdalene appeared and told Them of an empty tomb, and they went forth; But Peter lagged behind, for in his soul He felt untrue, and cowardly as well. And John, beholding both the napkin and The shroud, each in its place, believed; But Peter wondered in his heart and felt Afraid.

Back to Jerusalem they went, Back to their room. Again the door was swung, And Mary Magdalene appeared with face Aglow. “He is alive! he is alive! I’ve seen him with these eyes! He called my name! And he has sent a message to you all, And, Peter, one for you.” “For me? For me?— No, no, it cannot be.” “Yes, Peter, one For you. He said, ‘Tell Peter.’”

Then adown The stairs again went Peter with a bound, Oft stumbling, for the tears fell fast, and he Was hastening to his Lord. He sought the trees, The olive trees, within the garden where He slept. O would he ever sleep again? Upon the grass he threw himself with sobs, Where Jesus sweat the drops of blood. He clutched The ground, and felt a hand within his own, And heard the old familiar voice in tones Of tender love, and then he knew his sins Were washed away. O blessed hour! O hour Of sweet communion with his Lord! He rose To life anew. All nature echoed but the voice, That voice, the one dear voice in all the world To him,—the voice of Jesus, precious voice!

The years rolled on, and Peter stood, a rock Upon the shore of life, a beacon light To many a soul in sin. And when at length He followed on, e’en to the cross, the hand Was still in his. And he awaits the hour When he shall hear the word “Arise,” and he Will rise to meet his Lord with all the saints In all the ages of the past. Amen!

Portland, Maine.