And that most blessed bodie, which was borne
Without all blemish or reprochfull blame,
He freely gave to be both rent and torne 150
Of cruell hands, who with despightfull shame
Revyling him, (that them most vile became,)
At length him nayled on a gallow-tree,
And slew the iust by most uniust decree.

O huge and most unspeakeable impression 155
Of Loves deep wound, that pierst the piteous hart
Of that deare Lord with so entyre affection,
And, sharply launcing every inner part,
Dolours of death into his soule did dart,
Doing him die that never it deserved, 160
To free his foes, that from his heast* had swerved!
  [* Heast, command.]

What hart can feel least touch of so sore launch,
Or thought can think the depth of so deare wound? 
Whose bleeding sourse their streames yet never staunch,
But stil do flow, and freshly still redownd*, 165
To heale the sores of sinfull soules unsound,
And clense the guilt of that infected cryme,
Which was enrooted in all fleshly slyme.
  [* Redownd, overflow.]

O blessed Well of Love!  O Floure of Grace! 
O glorious Morning-Starre!  O Lampe of Light! 170
Most lively image of thy Fathers face,
Eternal King of Glorie, Lord of Might,
Meeke Lambe of God, before all worlds behight*,
How can we thee requite for all this good? 
Or what can prize** that thy most precious blood? 175
  [* Behight, named.]
  [** Prize, price.]

Yet nought thou ask’st in lieu of all this love
But love of us, for guerdon of thy paine: 
Ay me! what can us lesse than that behove? 
Had he required life for us againe,
Had it beene wrong to ask his owne with game? 180
He gave us life, he it restored lost;
Then life were least, that us so little cost.

But he our life hath left unto us free,
Free that was thrall, and blessed that was band*;
Ne ought demaunds but that we loving bee, 185
As he himselfe hath lov’d us afore-hand,
And bound therto with an eternall band;
Him first to love that was so dearely bought,
And next our brethren, to his image wrought.
  [* Band, cursed.]

Him first to love great right and reason is, 190
Who first to us our life and being gave,
And after, when we fared* had amisse,
Us wretches from the second death did save;
And last, the food of life, which now we have,
Even he himselfe, in his dear sacrament, 195
To feede our hungry soules, unto us lent.
  [* Fared, gone.]

Then next, to love our brethren, that were made
Of that selfe* mould and that self Maker’s hand
That we, and to the same againe shall fade,
Where they shall have like heritage of land, 200
However here on higher steps we stand,
Which also were with selfe-same price redeemed
That we, however of us light esteemed.
[* Selfe, same.]