Synne offendyth God in his face,
And agrevyth oure Lorde ffulle ylle,
It causyth to man ryght grett manace,
And scrapyth hym out of lyvys bylle,
That blyssyd book.
What man in synne doth alle wey scleppe,
He xal gon to helle ful deppe,
Than xal he nevyr after creppe
Out of the brennyng brook.
I am ȝour wyff, ȝour childeryn these be,