Classic Poem

O Lord! my sinne doth overchardge Thy breste,
The poyse thereof doth force Thy knees to bowe;
Yea, flatt Thou fallest with my faultes oppreste,
And bloody sweate runnes tricklinge from Thy browe:
But had they not to earth thus pressèd Thee,
Much more they woulde in hell have pestred me.

This globe of earth doth Thy one finger propp,
The worlde Thou dost within Thy hand embrace;
Yet all this waight, of sweat drew not a dropp,
Nor made Thee bowe, much lesse fall on Thy face;
But now Thou hast a loade so heavye founde,
That makes Thee bowe, yea flatt fall to the grounde.

O Synne! howe huge and heavye is thy waight,
That wayest more then all the worlde beside;
Of which when Christ had taken in His fraighte,
The poyse thereof His flesh coulde not abide.
Alas! if God Himself sincke under synne,
What will become of man that dies therein?

First flatt Thou fellst where earth did Thee receive,
In closett pure of Marye's virgin breste;
And now Thou fallst, of earthe to take Thy leave,
Thou kissest it as cause of Thy unreste:
O loving Lord! that so dost love Thy foe
As thus to kysse the grounde where he doth goe!

Thou, minded in Thy heaven our earth to weare,
Dost prostrate now Thy heaven our earth to blisse;
As God to earth Thou often wert severe,
As man Thou sealst a peace with bleedinge kisse:
For as of soules Thou common father art,
So is she mother of man's other parte.

She shortly was to drincke Thy dearest bloode,
And yelde Thy soule awaye to Satan's cave;
She shortly was Thy cors in tombe to shroude,
And with them all thy Deitye to have;
Now then in one Thou joyntly yealdest all,
That severally to earth should shortely fall.

O prostrate Christ! erect my croked mynde;
Lord! lett Thy fall my flight from earth obtayne;
Or if I still in Earth must nedes be shrynde,
Then, Lord! on Earth come fall yet once againe;
And ether yelde with me in earthe to lye,
Or els with Thee to take me to the skye!