The remors of conscyence.

¶ Here begynneth certayne demonstracyons by our lorde to all synfull persones with ye Remors of mann [...] conscyence to the regarde o [...] the bounte of our lorde.

[Jesus confronts a man on his knees]
[Jesus confronts a man on his knees]


OVr gracyous god moost in magnyfycēce
His mercyfull eyen casteth frō heue on hy
Seynge his creatures in deedly vyolēce
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 my wyllyngly
Man suche a loue to the I dyde take
This worlde in seuen dayes whan I it wrought
Thou was the laste 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
More ouer 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 nothynge 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 Remors of conscy.
[Page] A crysten soule conceyued in synne
Receyued in conscyence thus complanynge
He fell dowue flatte with delefull 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 frome thy knowynge
I want wordes and also wytte
Of thy kyndnesse to speke a cause
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 lorde thou knowest mannes feblenesse
How frayle it is and hath ben aye
For thought the soule haue thy lykenesse
Man is but fulsome erthe and clayne
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 lordemercy mynge
And to my sore salue thou sende
Sore merepenteth of my myslyuynge
Mercy lorde I wyll amende
[Page] Man yf thou amendes wylte make
Gyue thyn almesse of thyn owne goodes
And se thou 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 worme wode
The poore people thou doo oppresse
With sleyghtes and wyles many one
Thou makest chyrches and do synge messe
Thou mendest wayes where men ouer gone
And some men curse and some men blesse
Whiche shall I here of these two
I 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
With hodest here ayenst the ryght
Frome thy seruauntes vpon the crye
Man oftentymes thou hast me hygth
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
[Page] 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
In 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 fader 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 other whyles
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 comym 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
[Page] Man I haue sente the kyndly syght
And vndestandynge skyll and wytte
To rule thy selfe by reason ryght
As reherseth holy wrytte
That clerely sheweth the godly lyght
How thou sholde deedly synne forsake
And on that maner thou please me myght
What ayleth the thus fro me to shake
Worlde rychesse ryall repayre
In welth and thynges of Iolyte
Fysshes / beestes / and byrdes of the ayre
These thynketh me semely for to se
That thynge yt peryssheth & dooth appayre
Vnto thy syght thus pleasynge be
Well mayst thou wytte 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 reqest
As fro thy foo thou fro me feles
I folowe the fast and on the crye
Thou wrappest the with all vanytes
And thynke my speche to the but folye
And a thynge that noutght is yu wylte lese
My Ioye that lasteth endleslye
Man yet vyce leue and vertue chese
And make amendes or that thou dye
[Page] 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 sytheathe 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 maye I synge
For had I ben of synne a forsaker
Of cryste sholde I haue had some knowynge
My ghoostly eyen ben full of luste
Cursed couetyse hath blynded me
They ben blode shotten with fleshely luste
That heuenly kynge may I not se
But lorde though I haue ben vniuste
Thorough helpe of thy benygnyte
I hope to rube 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. commaundementes truly I wys
Them to kepe I wyll me mende bende
And there as I haue done amys
Mercy Ihesu I wyll amende
[Page] Man yf thou wylte my mercy gete
Thrugh my passyon of moost vertue
Why ceasest thou not me for to bete
Eche daye on the crosse doost me newe
With deedly synne on morowe at mete
As tourmentours to me vntrue
And namely with thy othes grete
To swere thou wylte no thynge eschew.
No lymme of me / nor thou derest
Why sayest thou euyll ayenst good
By my soule ofte tyme thou swerest
By my body and by my blode
With thy tonge thou me all to terest
Whan thou arte wrothe and almoost wo
Man with thyn vnkyndnes thou me d [...] re [...]t
More than they rente me on the rode
Thou hast more pyte of thy too
If it be hurte and a lytell blede
And all that euer that I dyde doo
I suffred it for thy mysdede
Whan thou arte taught that thou sholde do
Of swerynge but whan it were nede
Thou scornest them that sayeth so
Thou takest to my byddynge no hede
Loude lesynges on me thou makest
Somtyme to wynne an halfe peny
Whan to wytnesse thou me takest
And yet for swerest the wylfully
Byenge and sellynge thou not forsakest
But vayne and fals to swere me by
Whan thou doost thus thy bale thou takest
Man make amendes or that thou dye Remors of conscy.
[Page] Swete Iesu how sholde I agayne saye
But that I am a caytyfe and more curste
That dooth on the curse euery daye
With grete othes and werkes worste
And moche more the greueth than they
On caluary that flewe fyrste
For had they knowen the for god veray
[...]o do the to deth they had not durste
[...]ut I knowe after my byleue
That thou arte god omnypotent
[...]d I seace not the to greue
Well worthy I am to be shente
How mayst thou lorde suffre to meue
Of the traytours that the tourment
Meruayle it is I do not myscheue
Or am not kylled / drownet / or brent
The erthe opened and swalowed quycke
Sathan and abyron for theyr synne
And as I wene they were neuer so wycke
As moost certyfefull mankynne
Indeedly synne men dye now thycke
Dysease full grete now dooth begynne
Yet in my synne I stande and stycke
Euyll custome is full harde to blynne
I wolde be wanton and do euyll
But I wolde none me reprehende
But let me lyue after my wyll
This was lefull somtyme I wende
But now I se that it is skyll
[...]uche lyght lorde thou haste me sende
[...]t I leue synne it wyll me spyll
[...]ercy lorde I wyll amende
[Page] Man do penaunce whyle thou mor
Leest sodeynly I take vengeaunce
Bydd [...] I the not daye by daye
For cause I wolde thou dyde penaunce
Man I am more redy alwaye
To forgyue thy mysgouernaunce
Whan yu of all thy frendes haste made assaye
Thou shalte fynde none like to me
Thou wylte amende oftetymes thou sa [...]
Agayne amendes no man may [...]e
Do true penaunce and I am payed
From endles payne to make the fre
For thy loue my lyfe I layed
What frende sholde haue done so for the
With sorowfull herte thy synne thou shryue
And make amendes to thyn enemy
If thou thus leue thy wycked lyue
I wyll be therof gladde truly
Thynke oftentymes of lothes wyne
And tourne not to thy synne agayne
Let no dyspayre downe the dryue
Thynke on Peter and Magdalayne
Man wype awaye thy wyckednesse
And kepe my byddynge by and by
And thou shalte haue in my palesse
Worshyp withouten vylany
No pouerte but all rychenesse
Helth / strength / & wysdome truly
Thou shalte be full of all swetnesse
And than to lyue and neuermore dye
[Page] Graunte mercy Ihesu croppe and rote
Of all frendshyp for in none fayles
Ayen [...] [...]he I wy [...] not mote
But as ofte as me euyll ayles
I wyll fall downe flatte to thy fote
To helpe me in ghoostly batayles
Now wote I where I shall me hyde
Whan I am styred to ony synne
In the grete wounde of thy ryght syde
And be hertely hydde therin
As in a toure there may I abyde
For ought ye fynde can me ymagyn
For all this worlde that is so wyde
Therin is souerayne medecyn
There may no wanhope make me care
That haue of they aungeiles so good
To kepe me that I not mysfare
And thy moder myldest of mode
Lorde shende vs thy woundes then
And than of mercy we may not mysse
And than to helpe crysten men
Now Ihesu lorde thou vs wysse
That we with the may byde to blysse
In Ioye and blysse withouten ende
That to thy people ordeyned is
That leue synne and them amende


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