.NDU.MjI1ODQ

Nayle downe my ffeete, that they may nev[er] rise [in margin: pedem] To lift a heele gainst truth, or thee dispise Ffixe my right ffoot w[i]th fortitude gainst feare Rivitt my left w[i]th ['fortitude' struck through] Constancie to beare And that thy sharpe hoves may my sinnes apall Reach on thy Hissope reed, thy purging Gall, W[i]th maye distaste in mee ffleshlye delights And to the spirritts ffood give apetite But ffather, lett this Cupp the worlds gilt Cupp Passe by and yt I nere maye drincke that upp Lett me p[er]ceave this world soe loved of all [in margin: Spongia] Is but a Sponge, of viniger and gall W[hi]ch when I tast, w[i]th consumatum est Ile dye to it to live in thee at rest And that (even dead) like thee I maye appeare My hard hart through my soft syde peirce & teare W[i]th thy spirituall lance, thy saving word Whose pointe is sharper far, then speare or sword Whence two fold streames of Charitye may flowe Blood when thou calst, water for theise bestow Soe shall my foes yt gazeing on have stood [in margin: Suffragu[m]] Say after death, sure God to him was good [in margin: Sepultura] (1) When thus thy passion daye I passed have, [in margin: (1) dies primus est affectionis et penitentiæ] Laye mee to rest w[i]th in thy quiett grave Was thy bloods price purchas[d] ye potters feild To bury strangers, soe this earth maye yeild Some rest to us poore pilgrimes till wee rise But tis because thy blood hath paid the price, Thus dead to sinne, O give my soule the honnor (Mauger the busy watch the worlde sitts on her Meekelye to sleepe by thee, in safetye sure, wrapt in thy righteousnes, thy syndon pure [in margin: Signu[m]] (2) Then seale my hart up, that it soe may staye [in margin: (2) dies secundus est tranquil[l]itatis et gra: [gratiæ]] In quiett by thy grace this second daye [in margin: Resurectio] (3) Till on the third, in glorye I may rise And see my blessed patterne w[i]th these eyes [in margin: (3) dies tertius est præmia[ti]onis et Gloriæ] My God w[hi]ch hast for me thy losse not spared My Jesus my exceeding great reward faine would my soule breake through these prison lockes (Lord, open to her, ffor shee stands & knockes) But when to raise hir up thy selfe knows be so And therefore I submitt w[i]th this request That when thy passion daye I first have kept (And for my sinnes, w[hi]ch penitence have wept) Untill the third daye raise me to thy glory In peace this second I may end my storye.