Lete hym ly stylle ryght evyn as he is,
The stynke of his careyn myght hurte us I drede.
Jhesus. As I have the tolde, syght of the Godhede
Thyself xuldyst have, feythful if thou be;
Take of the ston, do aftyr my rede,
The glorye of the Godhede anon ȝe xal se.
Primus consolator. ȝoure byddynge xal be done a ful swyfte,
Sett to ȝour handys and helpe echone;
I pray ȝow, seres, help me to lyfte,
I may not reyse it myself alon.