Scraps from the Arundel Ms.
Sinful man look up and see, how
ruefully I hung on rood;
And of my penance have pity with sorrowful
heart and dreary mood:
All this, man, I suffered for thee: My flesh
was riven, all spilt My blood;
Lift up thine heart, call thou on Me, forsake
thy sin: have mercy, GOD.

* * * * *

Think oft with sore heart of thy foul sins,
Think oft of hell-woe, of heaven-kingdom's
wins;[9]
Think of thine own death, of GOD'S death
on rood,
The grim doom of Doom's-day have thou oft
in mood:
Think how false is this world, and what its
reward,
Think what, for His good death, thou owest
thy Lord.

RICHARD ROLLE.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] Wins = joys.

+ -- -- -- -- -- -- -- + " Transcriber's Notes: " " " " Page 16: The speech that starts on this page with

contrition
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