DRAWING THE POISON - Homily for Good Friday

Upon this hil Y fond a tree,

Undir the tree a man sittynge,

From heed to foot woundid was he,

His herte blood Y sigh bledinge:

A semeli man to ben a king,

A graciouse face to loken unto;

I askide whi he had peynynge,

He seide, Quia amore langueo.

I am Truelove that fals was nevere.

My sistyr, Mannis Soule, Y loved hir thus.

Bicause we wolde in no wise discevere,

I lefte my kyngdom glorious.

I purveide for hir a paleis precious;

Sche fleyth; Y folowe. Y soughte hir so,

I suffride this peyne piteuous,

Quia amore langueo.

Delivered at the Good Friday Passion Service, Christ the King Classical School