The law of God be to thee thy rest,
The flesh thy sacrifice, the world exile,
God thy love and thy tresour best,
Heven thy contre thorogh every while.
Repentaunce thou take into thy brest
For thin unkinnesse and wikkidness vile,
And abide at thyself withinne thy nest
Lest under pite thou be trapped with gile;
Except at somwhile as a hasty gest
Thu stert to do good but thorogh no long mile.
Have do, glutoun, flee to this fest!
For herein of all winning lyth crosse and pile.