Of the stroke of God,
Whiche ys a perelous rodde.
Praye, praye, praye,
We never se that daye;
For yf that daye do come,
We shall dyssever and ronne,
The father agaynst the sonne,
And one agaynst another.
By Godes blessed[406] mother,
Or thei begynne to hugger,