FOLK SONGS

In St. Luke's Gospel we are told How Peter in the days of old 4Was sifted; And now, though ages intervene, Sin is the same, while time and scene 4Are shifted.

Satan desires us, great and small, As wheat to sift us, and we all 4Are tempted; Not one, however rich or great, Is by his station or estate 4Exempted.

No house so safely guarded is But he, by some device of his, 4Can enter; No heart hath armor so complete But he can pierce with arrows fleet 4Its centre.

For all at last the cock will crow, Who hear the warning voice, but go 4Unheeding, Till thrice and more they have denied The Man of Sorrows, crucified 4And bleeding.

One look of that pale suffering face Will make us feel the deep disgrace 4Of weakness; We shall be sifted till the strength Of self-conceit be changed at length 4To meekness.

Wounds of the soul, though healed, will ache; The reddening scars remain, and make 4Confession; Lost innocence returns no more; We are not what we were before 4Transgression.

But noble souls, through dust and heat, Rise from disaster and defeat 4The stronger, And conscious still of the divine Within them, lie on earth supine 4No longer.