Classic Poem

Abide, good men, and hald your pays,
And here what God Himselven says,
Hingand on the rood:
‘Man and woman that by me gase,
Look up to me and stint thy pace;
For thee I shed my blood.

‘Behald my body or thou gang,
And think upon my paines strang,
And still as stane thou stand.
Behald thyself the sooth, and see
How I am hinged here on this tree
And nailed foot and hand.

‘Behald my heved, behald my feet,
And thy misdeedes look thou leet;
Behald my grisely face.
And of thy sins ask àlegeance,
And in my mercy have àffiance,
And thou shall get my grace.’