NARRATION (Woman)
And Peter remembered the words of Jesus. And he went out, and wept
Bitterly.
PETER
What have I done? Denied Him?
What have I done?
So now am I no different from the men
Who take Thy bread then turn again?
Oh... What have I done? What have I done?
I hear their filthy tongues, their vicious scorn.
The lies they spin with Satan's yarn.
I watch them spit and strike Thy face, 
They mock Thy name in foul disgrace.
And when Thou lookest for a friend, 
Thou findest none, for I have fled! 
Oh God! What have I done?
As Thou hast taken stripes for me, 
Could I not take but one for Thee?
I cannot watch them take my Lord.
I can't endure their cruel hand upon Him.
While His own hands are tied with cord.
Those hands with pow'r to raise the dead, 
Command the storm, now bound instead, and
I cannot hear them mock His name.
I cannot bear their foul breath upon Him.
I dare not look upon His face
And see the very Son of God, 
His brow so bruised and stained with blood
His eyes that she'd my sorrow's tears, 
And watch as all hope disappears, 
I will not watch them crucify my Lord! 
For I know this Man! 
I know Him! I know this Man! 
I cannot watch what He must bear.
For surely He must carry all my burden.
Forgive me, Lord, that I'm not there... 
But, when my eyes have closed in death, 
These words will hang on my last breath:
I know Him.