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 For why I ne'er deny'd him thrice, As thou thyself hast done indeed. Thou carling bold, what's that to thee? I got remission for my sin; It cost many sad tears to me, Before I entered here within. It will not be thy meikle din Will cause heaven's gates opened be, Thou must be purified of sin, And of all sins must be made free. Saint Peter then, no thanks to you, That so you were rid of your fears, It was Christ's gracious look, I trow, That made you weep those bitter tears. The door of mercy is not closed, I may get grace as well as ye, It is not so as ye supposed, I will be in in spite of thee. But wicked wife, it is to late, Thou should'st have mourn'd on earth, Repentance now is out of date: It should have been before thy death Thou mightest then have turned wrath To mercy then, and mercy great, But now the Lord is very loth, And all thy cries not worth a jot. Ah! Peter, then, what shall I do? He will not hear me as I hear, Shall I despair of mercy too! No, no, I'll trust in mercy dear; And if I perish, here I'll stay,