ȝitt out of alle synne to brynge us owt of daungere,
He soferyth his dere sone for us alle to dye.
Nichodemus. Alas! alas! what syght is this?
To se the lorde and kynge of blys,
That nevyr synnyd ne dede amys,
Thus naylid upon a rode!
Alas! ȝewys, what have ȝe wrought?
A! ȝe wyckyd wytys, what was ȝour thought?
Why have ȝe bobbyd and thus betyn owth
Alle his blyssyd blood?