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, RICHARD ROLLE. FOOTNOTES: [9] Wins = joys. + -- -- -- -- -- -- -- + " Transcriber's Notes: " " " " Page 16: The speech that starts on this page with |