I sought of bishop and priest and judges
From the west to the east:
‘For the good of the soul what course is best?’

Paternoster, beati, and the holy creed
Who chants is well served in his soul's hour of need,
Till Domesday protected in word and deed.

Carve out a way and to it hold,
And fashion peace, which is richer than gold:
Mercy will never die or grow old.

Give food to the hungry, and the naked clothe,
And sing your devotions with suppliant lip,
You'll escape the grip of the demons you loathe.

The vain have a craving, the idle no less,
To miss the way and to go to excess;
Impure is the grain they winnow and press.

Oversleep, wild feasting and excess of mead,
And unrestrained passion given its head—
Sweet things—but bitter in the Day of Dread.

Betraying one's lord and false swearing for lands,
For the kind with hardness of heart uncaring,
That Day, all these will mean ill-faring.

From midnight devotions and lauds sung at dawn,
And on saints if we call,
On Christians, mercy will fall.