University of Virginia Library

When children first begin to learne,
Their letters for to knowe:
Right their difference to discerne
Thei lerne their Christ crosse row.
Christ his crosse be my speede, saye they,
And good sainct Nycholas,
In our childhode this did we pray,
For so the custome was.
Then in learning we did procede,
More knowledge to attaine,
Which knowledge had, we fell in dede
To folowe fancies vayne.
For the first thing that then learnd we,
Was first our lorde to knowe,
Thre persons in the trinitie,
Whiche faith we late fell fro,
Then learned we as Christ had taught,
For what, and howe to praye:
But vice in vs such wit hath wraught,
That fewe can it well saye:
The profe wherof doth here ensue,
Let men them selues be iudge,
Wherein yf I do tell them true,
At it let them not grudge.
But now, or I do further passe,
Lest some woulde this disdayne,
For naminge here sainct Nicholas,
My meaning is this playne.
Christ his crosse all our children praye,
In learning them to spede:
So shoulde all we nowe at this daye,
In like order procede.
We haue forgot our crosse to take,
And after Christ to runne,
Therfore all slouth we must forsake,
And turne where we begonne:
Then shall his crosse truely vs spede,
More vertue to attayne,
And grace in vs such loue wyll brede,
Our crosse shall vs not payne.
The holy man sainct Nycholas
Our children call for ayde:
I thinke most men knoweth not the case
And why it was so sayde.
Sainct Nicholas a childe beinge
His crosse right soone he bore,
For his body with muche fastinge
He punished full sore:
To teache both children and old men
Their crosse to take lykewise,
And after Christ to beare it then
With often exercise,
And after this, his childhode past,
A bishop made was he,
All worldlynes from him he cast,
And walkte in charitie,
Wherof he was suche a myrrour,
That happie were we all,
Yf god by grace, gaue bishoppes power
To the lyke life to fall,
And we to walke in the lyke trade,
All sortes bothe olde and yonge,
Then mought we hope god woulde vs ayde
And styll by grace vpholde.
But now alas my heart doth quake,
To see our myserie,
My crosse row now nedes must I make,
To my mynde contrarye.
The crosse of Christ some beares alas,
Against theyr wylles we see:
Gone hence is good sainct Nicholas
And eke his charitie.
In this life he did not onely,
His bodye muche chastice
But with almes muche pouertie,
He did releue lykewyse,
As in his life it doth appeare,
Which is myne authour playne,
Wherby to you I make it cleare,
His dedes I do not fayne.
Nowe for this cause this sainct I name,
To thende that we might all,
Perceyue the cause as I do ayme,
That we his ayde dyd call.
Therfore sith the worlde at this daye,
Is tourned vp syde downe,
This A B C here tourne I maye,
In some part wronge to sowne,
But now my wyll whole to expresse,
My wit can not attayne,
Therein I finde suche feblenes,
It passeth my weake brayne,
Therfore Christes crosse now be my spede,
For here I wyll beginne,
As cause doth moue me to procede,
Thus do I enter in.