_Be thou._ Blessed be thou, full of bliss! Let us never heaven miss, Through thy sweete Sones might! Loverd, for that ilke blood, _Lord,_ That thou sheddest on the rood, Thou bring us into heaven's light.

AMEN.
I think my readers will not be sorry to have another of a similar character.
I sigh when I sing For sorrow that I see, When I with weeping Behold upon the tree, And see Jesus the sweet His heart's blood for-lete _yield quite._ For the love of me.
His woundes waxen wete, _wet._ They weepen still and mete:[5] Mary rueth thee.

_pitieth._ High upon a down, _hill._ Where all folk it see may, A mile from each town, About the mid-day, The rood is up areared; His friendes are afeared, And clingeth so the clay;[6] The rood stands in stone, Mary stands her on, And saith Welaway! When I thee behold With eyen brighte bo, _eyes bright both._ And thy body cold-- Thy ble waxeth blo, _colour: livid._ Thou hangest all of blood _bloody._ So high upon the rood Between thieves tuo-- _two._ Who may sigh more?
Mary weepeth sore, And sees all this woe.
The nails be too strong, The smiths are too sly; _skilful._ Thou bleedest all too long; The tree is all too high; The stones be all wete! _wet._ Alas, Jesu, the sweet! For now friend hast thou none, But Saint John to-mournynde, _mourning greatly._ And Mary wepynde, _weeping._ For pain that thee is on.
Oft when I sike _sigh._ And makie my moan, Well ill though me like, Wonder is it none.[7] When I see hang high And bitter pains dreye, _dree, endure._ Jesu, my lemmon! _love._ His woundes sore smart, The spear all to his heart And through his side is gone.
Oft when I syke, _sigh._ With care I am through-sought; _searched through._ When I wake I wyke; _languish._ Of sorrow is all my thought.
Alas! men be wood _mad._ That swear by the rood _swear by the cross._ And sell him for nought That bought us out of sin.
He bring us to wynne, _may he: bliss._ That hath us dear bought! I add two stanzas of another of like sort.
Man that is in glory and bliss, And lieth in shame and sin, He is more than unwis _unwise._ That thereof will not blynne.

_cease._ All this world it goeth away, Me thinketh it nigheth Doomsday; Now man goes to ground: _perishes._ Jesus Christ that tholed ded _endured death._ He may our souls to heaven led _lead._ Within a little stound.

_moment._ Jesus, that was mild and free, Was with spear y-stongen; _stung_ or _pierced._ He was nailed to the tree, With scourges y-swongen.