I drawe fast to an ende;
That or my strenthis fro me wende,
Gode Lorde, send dow thi son,
That I with my ful mende,
Myght wurcheppe hym, if I con.
Bothe with my fete and hondys to,
To go to hym and handele also,
My eyn to se hym in certayn.
My tonge for to speke hym to,
And alle my lemys to werk and do,