Ah, gentle Jesu

‘A, gentill Jhesu!’ Who is that, that dothe me call? ‘I, a synner, that offt doth fall.’ What woldist thou have? ‘Mercy, Lord, of the I crave.’ Why, lovyst thou me? ‘Ye, my Maker I call the.’ Then leve thi syn, or I nyll the, And thynk on this lesson that now I teche the. ‘A, I will, I will, gentyll Jhesu.’ Uppon the cross nailid I was for the, Suffyrd deth to pay thi rawnsum; Forsake thi syn, man, for the love of me; Be repentant, make playne confession. To contryte hartes I do remission; Be not despayrid, for I am not vengeable; Gayne gostly enmys thynk on my passion; Whi art thou froward, syth I am mercyable? Ah, gentyll Jhesu! My blody wowndes downe railyng by this tre, Loke on them well, and have compassion; The crown of thorne, the spere, the nailis thre,