9. Prayer to St Peter

Holy and most kind Peter,

faithful shepherd of the flock of God,

chief of the apostles,

prince among such mighty princes.

You are able to bind and loose as you will;

you are able to heal and raise up as you will;

you can give the kingdom of heaven to whom you will.

Great Peter,

rich with so many and such great gifts,

high in so many and such great dignities,

here am I,

the poorest and weakest of men,

surrounded by many difficulties and hardships.

In my misery I need the help of your power and kindness,

but I have no words to express my need as it really is,

and my love is not great enough to reach up

from such a depth as mine to such a height as yours.

Again and again I try

to shake the lethargy from my mind,

to prevent my thoughts

from being scattered among vanities,

but when I have gathered together all my strength

I am not able to break out of the shadows

of the torpor that holds me

because of the filth of my sins.

Nor do I have the strength

to remain for long of the same mind.

I am the most wretched of wretches.

It really is so, it is not pretence, it is true.

Who is there to help a wretch

who has not the strength to express his trouble in words

or show the sorrow of his heart?

O great Peter,

if the cry of my trouble does not come up as far as you,

let the care of your goodness come down as far as me!

Shatter my hardness, shine on my darkness,

look upon my wretchedness!

Have a care, kind shepherd,

for the lamb of the flock committed unto you,

and have mercy on the misery in which he toils.

Do not make demands according to his wickedness,

but make allowance according to his prayer.

See now, the sickly sheep,

lies groaning at the shepherd’s feet;

he comes before the Lord of the shepherd and the sheep.

The runaway returns

and asks forgiveness for his errors and disobedience.

He shows to the good and healing shepherd

the gashes of wounds, and the bites of wolves,

which he ran into when he strayed,

and the neglected sore places

that he has had for a long time.

He begs him to have mercy while there is still life in him,

and he prays more by showing his need

to the merciful shepherd

than by any beseeching.

Peter, good shepherd,

do not be difficult of access;

do not turn away your merciful eyes.

Have a care, I pray you,

lest you throw down the penitent,

and delay to hear a suppliant.

Because his soul loathes the life-giving pasture,

he grows weak for lack of strength;

because he indulges in what is unhealthy,

he attracts tormenting diseases.

Full-grown ulcers, open wounds, putrid decay,

draw him swiftly to death.

Wolves have tasted his blood and now they lie in ambush,

watching, and plotting his overthrow.

His enemy, ‘as a roaring lion’, goes about seeking him,

so that he ‘may devour him’.

Faithful shepherd, look upon him,

and recognize that he has been committed to you.

He may have strayed but at least it is not he

who has denied his Lord and Shepherd.

Consider his appearance

and see the sign of your Lord and his.

If, under so much filth, you do not recognize

a face washed and made white at the font of Christ,

see at least that he confesses the name of Christ.

Remember that Christ asked you three times

if you loved him,

and when three times you confessed it

he said to you, ‘Feed my sheep’.

He is indeed a lover of the sheep

who thus sifts the love of the shepherd

before committing them to him.

When you had confessed that you loved him,

then he confided his sheep to you.

How, then, can his shepherd spurn his sheep?

Peter, shepherd of Christ,

gather up the lamb of Christ.

Your Lord sought and found him,

and bore him on his shoulders, rejoicing;

do not repel him now he comes back and prays.

The Lord bought him with his own blood

before he was born;

Christ’s shepherd should not value him lightly

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now he is reborn

and so diligently commended to him.

Alas, how long shall I not know

that I am received, healed, and cherished?

St Peter,

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if the names shepherd and sheep do not move you,

prince of the apostles, let the name of apostle

and the name of a Christian soul, do so.

The sheep I am offering you

is my soul reborn by baptism in Christ.

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Those wounds of which I spoke, those ulcers, those weals,

are not in the flesh of a sheep but in a rational being.

This hunger, this lack of strength, these sufferings,

are not in the belly of a sheep but in a human soul.

These wolves and lions are not animals but demons;

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these ills come from poverty in virtue and heaped up sins.

I do not feel that I have yet obtained a favourable hearing,

so with urgent anguish

I will repeat my story from the beginning,

and begin my prayers over again.

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To the door-keeper of the kingdom of heaven,

the prince of the apostles,

I will show a faithful soul, unhappy in the kingdom of sin,

longing for the kingdom of heaven;

and in this way I will call upon Peter,

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door-keeper of heaven, prince of the apostles.

In your presence, merciful Peter,

I show you my soul, the strength of its virtue dissolved,

bound by the chains of sin,

weighed down by a burden of vices,

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stinking and dirty with misdeeds,

torn by the wounds of devils,

festering and filthy with the ulcers of crimes.

By these and other grave ills, which you see better than I,

I am destitute, oppressed, surrounded,

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overwhelmed, and relieved of all good.

See, here is a soul needing mercy,

and here is the merciful apostle Peter

before the God of mercy,

who had mercy upon the apostle Peter

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and taught him what to do and gave him power to do it.

See, here is misery, and there is mercy,

the mercy of God and his apostle Peter,

and a soul in misery, confiding in God, and calling upon

God and his apostle Peter.

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This soul, weighed down for so long by its misery,

looks towards God and Peter;

will it see now the mercy of God and of Peter?

O God, and you his greatest apostle,

is this misery of mine so huge

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that it cannot be met by the wideness of your mercy?

Or if it can, but will not,

what is the enormity of my guilt

that exceeds the multitude of your mercies?

Is it that I have not confessed the whole of my sin?

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Truly, I have confessed all that I know of my sins.

Or is it because I do not make amends

by sufficient penitence?

Or because the good in me does not equal the bad?

I acknowledge that all this is true,

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but this is the very misery by which I am tormented.

Is it true, then, that the more I am oppressed by misery,

the more mercy will tarry?

That is an unheard-of word from one who is merciful

to one who prays.

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And yet, just God,

I understand what reply you make to my soul:

I deserve to suffer

because I have sinned of my own free will,

I do not deserve to be heard because I have disobeyed.

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Ah, how bitter it is to be without hope!

That, surely, is the sentence of justice, not of mercy,

and who calls on justice in my cause?

My talk was of mercy, not of justice.

In the wretched tribulation of my soul

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I beg of you, my God, the bread of mercy;

why do you press the stone of justice into my mouth?

Let your mercy, merciful God,

and the intercession of your dear apostle, blessed Peter,

hasten to free me, my sins being forgiven.

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St Peter, prince of the apostles,

by the mercy shown you and the power given you,

loose my chains, heal my wounds.

Free me from the misery of the kingdom of sin,

and lead me into the bliss of the kingdom of heaven,

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where rejoicing with you

I may give thanks and praise God for ever. Amen.

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