Classic Poem

Thenk, man, of min harde stundes;
Thenk of mine harde wundes.

Man, thu have thine thout one me;
Thenk how dere I bouthe thee;
I let me nailen to the tree—
Hardere deth ne may non be—
Thenk, man, all it was for thee.

I gaf my fles, I gaf my blod,
For thee me let idon on rod,
Out of my side ern the flod;
I tholed it all wid milde mod—
Man, it was all for thy god.

Mine peines weren harde and stronge—
My moder thouth es swithe longe:
Thenk, man, er thu do thy sinne
What I tholede for mankinne;
Min harde deth thee shall don blinne.