Sa þou sal to blys be broght, and heuen won within. 40
Þe kynd of luf es þis, þar it es trayst and trew,
To stand styll in stabylnes, and chaunge it for na new.
Þe lyfe þat lufe myght fynd, or euer in hert it knew,
Fra kare it tornes þat kyend, and lendes in myrth and glew.
[For now], lufe þow, I rede, Cryste, as I þe tell,45
And with aungels take þi stede: þat ioy loke þou noght sell!
In erth þow hate, I rede, all þat þi lufe may fell,
For luf es stalworth as þe dede, luf es hard as hell.
Luf es a lyght byrthen; lufe gladdes ȝong and alde;