Peter, Outworn, And Menaced By The Sword, Shook Off The Dust Of Rome; And, As He Fled, Met One, With Eager Face, Hastening Cityward, And, To His Vast Amaze, It Was The Lord. "Lord, Whither Goest Thou?" He Cried, Importunate, And Christ Replied,-- "Peter, I Suffer Loss. I Go To Take Thy Place, To Bear Thy Cross." Then Peter Bowed His Head, Discomforted; There, At The Master'S Feet, Found Grace Complete, And Courage, And New Faith, And Turned--With Him, To Death. So We,-- WheNe'er We Fail Of Our Full Duty, Cast On Him Our Load,-- Who Suffered Sore For Us, Who Frail Flesh Wore For Us, Who All Things Bore For Us,-- On Christ, The Lord.