Jesus Bids Man Remember

Men rent me on Rode
With wundes woliche wode;
All blet my blode:
Thenk, man, all it is thee to gode.

Thenk who thee first wroughte,
For what werk helle thou soughte;
Thenk who thee agein boughte:
Werk warly, faile me noughte.

Beheld my side,
My wundes sprede so wide;
Restless I ride:
Lok upon me—put fro thee pride.

My palefrey is of tre,
With nailes nailede thurh me.
Ne is more sorwe to se;
Certes, noon more no may be.

Under my gore
Ben wundes selcouthe sore.
Ler, man, my lore,
For my love sinne no more.

Fal nought for fonding:
That shall thee most turne to goode.
Mak stif withstonding:
Thenk well who me rente on the Rode.
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