When Jesus’ followers saw what was going to happen, they said, “Lord, should we strike with our swords?”And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear.
But Jesus answered, “No more of this!” And he touched the man’s ear and healed him. Then Jesus said to the chief priests, the officers of the temple guard, and the elders, who had come for him, “Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come with swords and clubs?Every day I was with you in the temple courts, and you did not lay a hand on me. But this is your hour—when darkness reigns.”
Malchus by Peter Steele
Bull at a gate in the garden, Peter’s out With a stubby blade, and slashes in the dark At the nearest of the looming figures—a lout, And a slave with it, obedient to the bark Of the officer bloke, to whom he’s a waste of space, Named though he is for a king. And now it’s first Blood to the partisans of peace in the race To the hooked wood, the dangling and the thirst. The stuff that crusted where the severed ear Had been returned stayed with him through the night And half of bloody Friday. He could hear As well as ever, though he made a sight For his mates to see while he talked about the stroke And how the man commanded when he spoke.
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