God, God, is not my blood like his blood red?
God, God, could I not see that she was fair?
Did I not close my eyes and bow my head,
And purge my soul with fasting and with prayer?
God, see my flesh with scourgings cut and scarred!
God, see my frame with fasting weak and thin!
God, see my face with tears and sorrow marred!
God, see my soul burnt white and clean of sin!
Tempted I was like him, but did not yield.
Outcast is he and damned and spit upon.