The remors of conscyence.

¶Here begynneth certayne demonstracyons by our lorde to all synfull persones with the remors of mannes conscyence to the regarde of the bounte of our lorde.

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Deus.
OVr gracyous god moost in magnyfycence
His mercyfull eyen casteth frō heuen on hy
Seynge his creatures in deedly vyolence
Hymselfe complayneth by pyte full ruthfully
Saynge o man deuoyde of intellygence
Open thyn eeres vnto my call and cry
And tell me yf I haue done to the offence
That thou forsakest me wyllyngly
Man suche a loue to the I dyde take
This worlde in seuen dayes whan I it wrought
Thou was the last thynge that I dyde make
Bycause I wolde thou wanted nought
What thynge the myght helpe dyde not lake
That at thy nede yf it were sought
Fowle / fysshe all thynge for thy sake
For thy comforte all was forth brought
Moreouer I gaue the that dygnyte
All beestes to bowe the vntyll
I made the also lyke vnto me
And gaue the connynge and free wyll
Me to serue that thou sholde se
To chose the good and leue the yll
I aske no thynge agayne of the
But loue thy souerayne as it is skyll
But vnto this takest thou none entente
Thou tournest fro me full vnkyndly
On loues vnlefull thy loue is lente
Thy herte beholdeth not heuen so hye
For all the goodes I haue the sente
The lysteth not ones to saye gramercye
In tyme to come or thou repente
Man make amendes or that thou dye
Homo.
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A crysten soule conceyued in synne
Receyued in conscyence thus complaynynge
He fell downe flatte with dolefull dynne
And sayd lorde mercy souerayne kynge
I moost vnkynde wretche of man kynne
I knowe I am thy traytour vntrue in my lyuynge
This wycked lyfe that I lyue in
I may it nought hyde from thy knowynge
I want wordes and also wytte
Of thy kyndnesse to speke a clause
That I haue thou gaue me it
Of thy goodnes withouten cause
Though I haue greued the and do yet
Thy benefaytes thou nought withdrawse
I haue deserued to haue hell pytte
So haue I lyued ayenst thy lawse
But forde thou knowest mannes feblenesse
How frayle it is and hath ben aye
For though the soule haue thy lykeuesse
Man is but fulsome erth and claye
In synne conceyued and wretchednesse
And to the soule rebell alwaye
Fyrst a man groweth as dooth gresse
And he wasteth after as floures or haye
Syth man is than so frayle a thynge
And thy power so grete in kynde
This worlde is but a twynkelynge
Thou mayst destroye the myght of the fende
With thy ryght lorde mercy mynge
And to my sore salue thou sende
Sore me repenteth of my mystyuynge
Mercy lorde I wyll amende
Deus.
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Man I gaue the bodyly hele
That thou sholde it spende in my seruyce
Fayrenes also and fetures fele
Man what doost thou with all thyse
Thou with delytes of the deuyll doost dele
Whiche is to me a grete despyse
Thou lyuest a lecherous lyfe vnlele
Fro yere to yere thou lyst not ryse
Thou studyest after nyce araye
And makest grete cost on thy clothynge
To make the semely as who sholde saye
Thou coudest amende my makynge
Thou purposest the daye by daye
To set my people to synnynge
Thy wretched wyll thou folowest alwaye
What ende synne hath yu thynkest no thynge
In Noes tyme bycause of synne
And for lecherye in especyall
What vengeaūce came than to mānes kynne
Saue .viii. persones drowned were all
On sodome and gomor and the men within
How I made fyre and brymstone fall
Fro heuen on them that bode therin
For synne were destroyed bothe grete & small
Man wenest thou my myght be lesse
Than it was than or that elles I
Thou hast now as moche wyckednesse
As whan I smote the moost pyteousty
But yf thou wyll thy fautes redresse
Though I now spare for my mercy
Man thynke on my ryghtwysnesse
And make amendes or that thou dye a .iii.
Homo.
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I wote well lorde ryghtfull thou arte
And that synne must be punyshed nede
But one thynge holdeth in hope my herte
Thy mercy paseth my mysdede
I knowe well that I may not sterte
I haue so done me ought to drede
With beaute and with hodely quarte
To serue the I haue taken no hede
I haue myspended my yonge age
In synne and wantonnesse also
To serue god slowe / and loued to rage
A gloton / a lechour I was bothe two
I am worthy none other wage
But for to dwell in endlesse woo
Alas why haue I ben outrage
And serued the fende that is my foo
But lorde in holy wryte rede we
That thou forsakest no wretched wyght
That leueth his synne and tourneth to the
And to tourne to the haue I hyght
Full proude and rebell haue I bene
But now I take me to thy myght
From hens for warde to be clene
Ayenst myn owne flesshe to fyght
My flesshe to feble I wyll fast
My bones to trauayle and to tene
And thrugh thy grace I am not agast
What fore and sekenesse on me be sene
To suffre whyle my lyfe may last
For vtterly I wyll attende
To punysshe that I haue trespast
Mercy I hesu I wyll amende
Deus.
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Man I haue sente the syluer and golde
And all thy welth within thy wone
To susteyne the and thy housholde
And also other many one
Thou myght haue holpen yonge and olde
That ben dyseased and woobe gone
My seruauntes suffred bothe hungre and colde
Relefe of the yet haue they none
If thou gyue for my loue a farthynge
Thou doost it with an heuy herte
In almesse thou gyuest no thynge
For drede thou fall in pouerte
In flesshely luste and worldly lykynge
What euer thou wastest mery thou arte
Of suche I wyll haue a rekenynge
At domes daye thou shalte not astarte
Than shalte thou gyue a countes full streyte
How thou comest by thy good eche dele
Whether with trouth or with deceyte
And how thou spende it yll or wele
None other grace thou after wayte
As thou hast wrought so shalte thou fele
What shall than profyte thy good in plate
Or poundes that thou of the people pele
A clene conscyence shall that daye
More profyte the and more set by
Than all the goodes or the monaye
Than euer was vnder heuen or skye
It wyll neuer helpe to plete nor praye
For as ryght wyse than deme wyll I
And therfore man whyles thou may
Make amendes or that thou dye
Homo.
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I wote well lorde fro yere to yere
Full gretely greued I the haue
That I wolde nor thy mercy were
My moders wombe had be my graue
For what profyteth my lyuynge here
But afterwarde I sholde be saue
But Ihesu as thou bought me dere
Leue not my soule in hell caue
My waste expense I wyll withdrawe
For waste well called may it be
For it was spended my boost to lawe
My name to bere on londe and se
Well I wote me there not trowe
Thought many a man of my countre
If they me mette they dyde me not knowe
Nor neuer yet herde speke of me
Falsly I haue wrought as wretche vnwyse
I myght haue goten me moche mede
Had I it spente in goddes seruyce
But thorugh thy grace lorde I am in drede
As men that lyeth and may not ryse
For haue I and myn all our nede
With the remenaunt lorde at thy deuyse
The poore and naked with cloth and fere
Seke men that lyen in goddes bandes
That haue no syluer for to spende
And prysoners bounde bothe fete and handes
Ofte to vysyte and them attende
Whan Ise them that in nede standes
Suche as I haue I shall them sende
Lorde let these werkes lesse my bande
And mercy Ihesu I wyll amende
Deus.
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Man yf thou amendes wylte make
Gyue thyn almesse of thyn owne goodes
And sethou werkes no man to wrake
To venge ony other mennes modes
If thou vntruly from ony take
And therwith fynde forty theyr fodes
Suche sacrefyce I forsake
They be to me as soure as wormewode
The poore people thou doost oppresse
With sleyghtes and wyles many one
Thou makest chyrches and do synge messe
Thou mendest wayes where men ouer goue
And some men curse and some men blesse
Whiche shall I here of these two
If thou wylte haue grace as I gesse
Let all falsnes be fledde the fro
The mothes that thy clothes ete
And thou lettest poore men go bare
Thy drynke soureth and mouleth thy mete
Wherwith the poore man myght well fare
The rust that thy syluer dooth frete
Thy goodes that euyll goten are
They crye on the vengeaunce grete
The for to spyll but yet I spare
Withholdest here ayenst the ryght
From thy seruauntes vpon the crye
Man oftentymes thou hast me hyght
Thou wolde amende and leue foly
Thou spekest full fayre bothe daye & nyght
Thou brekest my cōmaūdemētes cōtynually
Yet is me lothe with the to fyght
But make amendes or that thou dye
Homo.
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Swete lorde I may not agaynst saye
I haue not holden that I the hyght
I greue the gretely euery daye
I do not as I had the plyght
I wolde do well but welawaye
With enemyes I am euer beset
Whan my soule fayne wolde the paye
My flesshe is fyrst that wyll me let
And euer the fatter that I it fede
Euer the fressher it is my foo
Yet bere it aboute I must nede
Full feble it is it wyll me sloo
The worlde /the fende / the flesshe they bede
Some with well and some with woo
What may I do with a wycked wede
To fyght ayenst thre enemyes soo
Whan I enforce me otherwhyles
And thynke I wyll lyue a true lyue
And forsake all batayles and gyles
The worlde byddeth me batayle belyue
And but I wyll vse wrethes and wyles
The comyn voyce is I shall not tryue
Some me scorneth and at me smyles
And counte me but a kynde caytyue
But now I thynke withstondynge this
To forsake falsnes withouten ende
And restore that I toke amys
And paye my dettes fayre and hende
And to rewarde eche man his
As reason is than wyll I spende
And gyue myn almesse there nede is
Mercy Ihesu I wyll amende
Deus.
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Man I haue sente the kyndly syght
And vnderstandynge skyll and wytte
To rule thy selfe by reason ryght
As reherfeth holy wrytte
That clerely sheweth the godly lyght
How thou sholde deedly synne forsake
And on yt maner thou please me myght
What ayleth the thus fro me to shake
Worldly rychesse ryall repayre
In welth and thynges of Iolyte
Fysshes beestes and byrdes of the ayre
These thynketh me semely for to se
That thȳge yt perissheth & dooth appayre
Vnto thy syght thus pleasynge be
Well mayst thou wytre I am full fayre
Of whome eche thynge hath this beaute
But man as thou wytlesse were
Thou lokest aye downwarde as a beest
It behoueth the of me to here
Foule spekynge is to the a feest
I comforte the I make the chere
And thou in wardly louest me leest
I call the to me yere by yere
Thou wylte not come at my request
As fro thy foo thou fro me feles
I folowe the fast and on the crye
Thou wrappest the with all vanytees
And thynke my speche to the but folye
And a thynge that nought is yu wylte lese
My Ioye that lasteth endlesly
Man yet vyce leue and vertue chese
And make amendes or that thou dye
Homo.
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Swete Ihesu none answere I can
But ofte crye mercy with herte stable
Alas for woo why is a man
Worse than a beest vnreasonable
All beestes sythen the worlde began
In kyndely werkynge ben durable
Saue onely I of wyll wan
That do full many dedes dampnable
I was made to knowe my maker
And to loue hym ouer all thynge
And I a sleper and neuer waker
To take kynde knowynge of my kynge
To tryfles haue I ben a grete hede taker
A songe of sorowe may I synge
For had I ben of synne a forsaker
Of cryste sholde I haue had some knowynge
My ghoostly eyen ben full of duste
Cursed couetyse hath blynded me
They ben blodeshotten with flesshely luste
That heuenly kynge may I not se
But lorde though I haue ben vniuste
Thorough helpe of thy benygnyte
I hope to rubbe awaye the ruste
With repentaunce and grace of the
And where that I haue afore this
My wyll in worlde thynge haue spende
From hens forwarde my purpose is
Thy lawe to lerne to my lyues ende
Thy .x. cōmaundementes truly ywys
Them to kepe I wyll me bende
And there as I haue done amys
Mercy Ihesu I wyll amende

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