Classic Poem

For to a torche or to a taper the Trinite is likened,
As wax and a wike were twined togederes,
And thenne flauming fyr forth of hem bothe;
And as wax and wike and warm fyr togederes
Fostren forth a flaume and a fair leye,
That serveth these swinkeres to see by a-nightes,
So doth the Sire and the Sone and Saint Spirit togederes
Fostren forth amonges folke fyn love and beleve,
That alle kinne cristene clenseth of sinne.
And as thou seest some time sodeinliche of a torche
The blase be y-blowen out, yet brenneth the wike,
Withouten leye and lighte lith fyr in the mache,
So is the Holy Gost God and grace withouten mercy
To alle unkinde creatures that coveiten to destruye
Leel licame and lyf that oure Lord shupte.
And as glowing gledes gladeth not these werkmen
That worchen and waken in winteres nightes
As doth a kix or a candle that caught hath fyr and blaseth,
No more doth Sire ne the Sone ne Saint Spirit togederes
Graunten any grace ne forgivenesse of sinnes
Til that the Holy Gost ginne to glowe and blase:
So that the Holy Gost gloweth but as a glede
Til that love and beleve leliche to him blowe;
And thenne flaumeth he as fyr on Fader and on Filius,
And melteth mighte into mercy, as we may see a winter
Isekeles in evesinges thorgh hete of the sunne
Melteth in a mint-while to mist and to water;
So grace of the Holy Gost the grete mighte of the Trinite
Melteth al to mercy to merciable and to non othere.
And as wax withouten more upon a warm glede
Wil brennen and blasen, be they togederes,
And solacen that mowen not see sitting in derknesse,
So wil the Fader foryive folke of milde hertes
That reufulliche repenten and restitucion make
In as muche as they mowen amenden and payen;
And if it sufficeth not for asseth that in such a will deyeth,
Mercy, for his mekenesse, wil maky good the remenaunt.
And as the wike and warm fyr wil make a faire flaume:
For to murthe men with that in merke sitten,
So wil Crist of His curtesye, and men crien Him mercy,
Bothe foryive and foryete, and yet bidde for us
To the Fader of hevene foryivenesse to have.
Ac hewe fyr at a flint foure hundred winter,
Bute thou have tasch to take it with, tender and broches,
Al thy labor is loste and al thy longe travaile.