Abraham. Farewell, my sweet son of grace!
Isaac. I pray you, father, turn down my face
A little while, while you have space,
For I am full sore adread.
Abraham. To do this deed I am sorry.
Isaac. Yea, Lord, to thee I call and cry:
On my soul may thou have mercy,
Heartily I thee pray.
Abraham. Lord, I would fain work thy will.
This young innocent that lies so still
Full loth were I him to kill
By any manner of way.
Isaac. My dear father, I you pray,
Let me take my clothes away,
For shedding blood on them to-day,
At my last ending.
Abraham. Heart! if thou would'st break in three,
Thou shalt never master me,
I will no longer let[81] for thee,
My God I may not grieve.
Isaac. Ah, mercy, father! why tarry you so?
Smite off my head, and let me go!
I pray you, rid me of my woe;
For now I take my leave.
Abraham. Ah, son! my heart will break in three
To hear thee speak such words to me.
Jesus, on me thou have pitý
That I have most in mind!
Isaac. Now, father, I see that I shall die,
Almighty God in majestý,
My soul I offer unto thee:
Lord, to it be kind.