With a garland of thornes kene
My hed was crowned, and that was sene;
The stremes of blood ran by my cheke:
Thou proude man, lerne to be meke.

When thou art wroth and wolde take wreche
Kepe wel the lore that I thee teche.
Through my right hand the nail it goth:
Forgive therfore and be not wroth.

With a spere sharp and grill
My hert was wounded, with my will,
For love of man that was me dere:
Envious man, of love thou lere.

Rise up, unlust, out of thy bedde!
Think on my feet that are for-bledde
And harde nailed upon a tree:
Think theron, man; this was for thee.

Through my left hand the nail was drive:
Think theron if thou wilt live,
And worship God with almes-dede,
If thou in hevene wilt have thy mede.

In alle my paines I sufferd on roode
Man gave me drinke no thing goode,
Eisell and galle for to drinke:
Gloton, theron ever thou thinke.

Of a maiden I was born
To save the folk that were forlorn;
All my body was beten for sin:
Lecher, therfor I rede thee blin.

I was beten for thy sake:
Sin thou leve and shrift thou take;
Forsake thy sin and love me;
Amend thee, and I forgive thee.