With stedfast beleve God enforme the ȝitt,
Of a meke mayde as he was ffor us born.
Christus. Pees be amonge ȝow, beholde how I am torn,
Take hede of myn handys, my dere brothyr Thomas.
Thomas. My God and my Lorde, nyght and every morn
I aske mercy, Lorde, ffor my grett trespas.
Christus. Beholde wele, Thomas, my woundys so wyde
Whiche I have sufferyd ffor alle mankynde;
Put thin hool hand into my ryght syde,
And in myn hert blood thin hand that thou wynde.