Þe holy gost grace lys,
He ȝeueþ lyf, he ȝeueþ no dede.
Ouercome my wraþþe, and fle fro vys,
And do þe comaundementis þat y bede."
Line 112
XX. [How Man's flesh complained to God against Christ.]
[Digby 102, leaf 120.] [27 stanzas of 8, abab, abab.]
(1)
The tixt of holy writ, men sayn,
Hit sleeþ, but glose be among.
The spirit of vnderstandyng quykeneþ agayn,
And makeþ the lyue endeles long.
Line 4
A fantasie y herde sayn,
There-of me lust to make a song,
'How mannys flesch to god dede playn
On Ihesu Crist, had don hym wrong.'
Line 8
(2)
¶ The flesch, his playnt þus doþ bygynne
To god fader, in heuene on hyȝt:
"Ihesu, brother of oure kynne,
Haþ bygyled me wiþ his sleyȝt.
Line 12
He haþ parted my soule and me o twynne,
And raft [it] fro me by his myȝt.
Now, ryȝtwys god, let mercy blynne!
On Ihesu, þy sone, do me ryȝt!
Line 16
(3)
¶ Body and soule, þou dede me make,
In vnyte to-gydre so.
Now haþ Ihesu my soule take,
And þus parted oure loue o two.
Line 20
My soule haþ me [now] forsake;
Sumtyme was frend, now is fo;
Byd me go wolward, faste, and wake,
Alle here ioye is of my woo.
Line 24
