Above alle hese werkys, God is mercyabyl,
Thow he forsook God be synne, be feyth he forsook hym never the more.
And thow he presumyd nevyr so sore,
ȝe must consyder the frelnes of mankende,
Lerne and ȝe lyst, this is Goddys lore,
The mercy of God is withowtyn ende.
Pax. To spare ȝour speches, systeres, it syt,
It is not onest in vertuys to ben dyscencion,
The pes of God ovyrcomyth alle wytt,
Thou Trewthe and Ryght sey grett reson.