[Written for the Sentinel]


HE loved his Master truly, deeply—yet, Upon that night of gloom, confused by fears, Thrice he denied him. Then his face was wet With tears repentant—aye, with bitter tears.

The Master saw—beneath confusion, fear, Impetuous denial—Love's own son, The perfect man, untouched by sin, so near The tender Father that the real was won.

February 18, 1928

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