And beleve in me, they ffor here meke mood
Shalle come into hefne, my blysse that is so bryght!
Thomas. As a ravaschyd man whos witt is alle gon,
Grett mornynge I make ffor my dredfful dowte;
Alas! I was dowteful that Crysst from undyr ston
Be his owyn grett myght no wyse myght gone owte.
Alas! what mevyd me thus in my thought?
My dowtefful beleve ryght sore me avexit,
The trewthe do I knowe that God so hath wrought,
Quod mortuus et sepultus nunc resurrexit!