While folk are sad, afflicted one and each,
He in his mercy’s rich, the generous leach:
Bright shines his brow; an thou regard his face
Thy heart illumined shines by light of grace.
O thou who shunnest souls of worth innate,
Departs thee (woe to thee!) of sins the weight.
Thou thinkest to overtake them, while thou bearest
Follies, which slay thee whatso way thou farest.
Didst wot their worth thou hadst all honour showed,
And tears in streamlets from thine eyes had flowed.