“This is my blood,” and then he bade all drink,
And of their dying Master ever think.
“This night I die: this night my body’s bruised;
This night by wicked men my name’s abused;
And even you, my dearest friends, shall fly,
And leave your Master all alone to die.”
His friends in sorrow heard; then promised
With him they fondly loved their blood to shed;
And Peter loudest said, “With thee I’ll die,”
And little thought he should his Lord deny.