Ah, gentle Jesu!
Who is that, that doth me call?
I, a sinner, that oft doth fall.
What would’st thou have?
Mercy, Lord, of thee I crave.
Why, lov’st thou me?
Yea, my Maker I call thee.
Then leave thy sin, or I nill thee.
And think on this lesson that now I teach thee.
Ah, I will, gentle Jesu!

Upon the cross I was nailed for thee,
Suffered death to pay thy ransom.
Forsake thy sin, man, for the love of me
Be repentant, make plain confession;
To contrite hearts I do remission.
Be not despaired, for I am not vengeable;
‘Gain ghostly en’mies think on my passion.
Why art thou froward, sith I am merciable?
Who is that, that doth me call?

My bloody woundes down railing by this tree,
Look on them well and have compassion;
The crown of thorn, the spear, the nails three,
Pierced hand and foot of indignation,
My heart riven for thy redemption.
Let us now twain in this thing be treatable:
Love for love by just convention.
Why art thou froward, sith I am merciable?
Who is that, that doth me call?

I had on Peter and Mawdlen pity;
Forthi contrite of thy contrition;
Saint Thomas of Indes incrudelity,
He put his hands deep in my side adown.
Roll up this mater; grave it in thy reason!
Sith that I am kind, why art thou unstable?
My blood best treacle for thy transgression;
Be thou not froward, sith I am merciable!
Who is that, that doth me call?

Think again, pride, on my humility!
Come to school, record well this lesson;
‘Gain false envy think on my charity,
My blood all spent by distillation.
Why did I this? To save thee from prison;
Afore thine heart hang this little table,
Sweeter than balm ‘gain ghostly poison:
Be thou not afraid, sith I am merciable.
Who is that, that doth me call?

Lord, on all sinful, here kneeling on knee,
Thy death remembering of humble affection,
O Jesu grant of thy benignity
That thy five wells plenteous of fusion,
Called thy five wounds by computation,
May wash us all from surfeits reprovable.
Now for thy mother’s meek mediation,
At her request be to us merciable.
Who is that, that doth me call?