(24)
¶ On Ihesu þou pleynt dost make,
Sayde he bigyled þe wiþ sleyȝte,
And biddest me lete mercy slake,
And on Ihesu do þe ryȝt.
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My sone, for þe, dede deth take,
And kydde þe loue most of myȝt.
Þouȝ he loue dede forsake,
How woldest þou þis doom were dyȝt?
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(25)
¶ Flesch, þy synnes mochil is;
Þou art cast in þyn awen caas.
Knowleche, repente, and mende þy mys,
And be in wille no more trespas.
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I nel deme þe in ryȝtwisnes,
But medle þerwiþ mercy and grace,
And brynge þy soule to heuene blys,
Wiþ loue to se my fayre face.
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(26)
¶ In ouerhope, be not to bold
In synne, for to haue mercy.
Let not wanhope in þe be old,
For my grace is euere redy.
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Fro helle pynes hoot and cold
I assoyle þe, and out of purgatory.
At þy deth, or body be cold,
To Ihesu in heuene þy soule shal fleye.
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(27)
¶ In good werkis wysely wake,
Playne not on Ihesu, what he sende.
Sykenes, pouerte, mekely take;
Richesse and hele wysely spende,
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And helpe all pore for goddis sake.
Þan god wole lede ȝow, as his frend,
To ioye of heuene þat shal neuere slake.'
In-to þat blisse, god graunte vs wende! Amen!
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