[♦] The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
125 And I, unjustly too, must grant it you:
[♦] But for my brother not a man would speak,
[♦] Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself
[♦] For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
[♦] Have been beholding to him in his life;
[130] Yet none of you would once plead for his life.
O God, I fear thy justice will take hold
[♦] On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this!