O, ffadyr! fadyr! for my sake This gret passyon thou take fro me Weche arn ordeyned that I xal take, ȝyf mannys sowle savyd may be. And ȝyf it behove, Fadyr, for me To save mannys sowle that xuld spylle, I am redy in eche degré, The vyl of the for to fulfylle. _Here Jhesus gothe to his dyscipulis and fyndyth hem sclepyng, Jhesus thus seyng to Petyr_, Petyr! Petyr! thou slepyst fast, Awake thi felawys and sclepe no more; Of my deth ȝe are not agast, ȝe take ȝour rest and I peyn sore. _Here Cryst goth ageyn the second tyme to Olyvet, and seyth knelyng_, ffadyr in hevyn, I beseche the Remeve my peynes be thi gret grace, And lete me fro this deth fle, As I dede nevyr no trespace! The watyr and blood owth of my face, Dystyllyth for peynes that I xal take; My flesche qwakyth in ferful case, As thow the joyntes asondre xuld schake. _Here Jhesus goth aȝen to his discipulis and fyndyth hem asclepe; Jhesus thus seyng, latyng hem lyne_, ffadyr, the thrydde tyme I come ageyn, ffulleche myn erdon for to spede; Delyver me, Fadyr, fro this peyn, Weche is reducyd with ful gret drede. Onto thi sone, Fadyr, take hede! Thou wotyst I dede nevyr dede but good! It is not for me this peyn I lede, But for man I swete bothe watyr and blode. _Here an aungel descendyth to Jhesus, and bryngyth to hym a chalys, with an host therin._ _Angelus._ Heyl, bothe God and man indede! The ffadyr hath sent the this present,— He bad that thou xuldyst not drede, But fulfylle his entent. As the parlement of hefne hath ment That mannys sowle xal now redemyd be; ffrom hefne to herd, Lord, thou wore sent, That dede appendyth onto the. This chalys ys thi blood, this bred is thi body, ffor mannys synne evyr offeryd xal be; To the fadyr of heffne that is almythty, Thi dyscipulis and alle presthood xal offere fore the. _Here the aungel ascendyth aȝen sodeynly._ _Jhesu._ ffadyr, thi wyl ffulfyllyd xal be, It is nowth to say aȝens the case; I xal fulfylle the prophesye, And sofre deth ffor mannys trespace. _Here goth Cryst ageyn to his dyscipulys, and fyndyth hem sclepyng stylle._ Awake, Petyr, thi rest is ful long; Of sclep thou wylt make no delay: Judas is redy, with pepyl strong, And doth his part me to betray. Ryse up, serys, I ȝou pray! Onclose ȝour eyne for my sake; We xal walke into the way, And sen hem come that xul me take. Petyr, whan thou seyst I am forsake Amonge myn frendys, and stond alone, Alle the cher that thou kanst make, Geve to thi bretheryn everychone.