 | The Wheatley Manuscript |  |
57
113
Ne auertas faciem tuam a me, & similis ero descendentibus in lacum.
Thi face turne not me fro!
I schal be lijk hem þat fallen in lake.
Þe dampnyd men may wel sey so,
That are bitauȝt þe feendis blake.
But lete me, Lord, be noon of þo;
Thinke how þou diedist for my sake,
And graunte me grace, eer þat I go,
Of my trespas amendis make.
I schal be lijk hem þat fallen in lake.
Þe dampnyd men may wel sey so,
That are bitauȝt þe feendis blake.
But lete me, Lord, be noon of þo;
Thinke how þou diedist for my sake,
And graunte me grace, eer þat I go,
Of my trespas amendis make.
| The Wheatley Manuscript | |