¶ And all hys goode freendys, [folio 128]
As Isayas spak in prophecye:
Line 144
He seyde 'þi sone, seynt Marye,
Hys deþe slowe deþe in Caluarye,
And leueþ with-oute endys'.
XII.
¶ Lady, love doþe þe alegge
Line 148
Fruite prikkyd with sperys orde:
I Cros, with-oute knyues egge,
I kerue fruit best of horde;
All is rede, Ribbe and rigge,
Line 152
Þe bak bledeþ aȝens þe borde;
I am a pyler and bere a brigge,
God is þe weye, witnesse one worde;
¶ God seiþ he is soþefast weye:
Line 156
Many folk slode to hell slider,
To heuene noman cowde þider,
Til god deiȝed and tauȝt whider
Men drawe whan þei deye:
Line 160
XIII.
¶ And Moyses fourmed hys figour,
A whyte lambe, and noon oþer beest
He sacred so oure sauyour,
To be mete of myȝtes meest,
Line 164
And chosen cheef in honour,
I bare fleissche to folkys feest;
Iesu cryst oure creatour,
Hys Flessche fedeþ leste and mest,
Line 168
¶ Rosted aȝens þe sonne;
On me lay þe lambe of love,
I was plater, hys body above,
Whan flessche and veynes all to-clove,
Line 172
With blood I was bironne.
