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Qvanne I zenke onne the rode 
Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 360, f. 145vb

Qvanne I zenke onne the rode
Quor-upeone thu stode,
Squete Iesu, mi leman,
Hu bi the was stondende


When I consider the cross
On which you stood,
Sweet Jesus, my lover,
How there stood beside you

Thi moder wepende
An thi disciple sei[n] Iohan,
Hu thi rige was isqungen,
A[n] ti side zurhc stungen,
For the gilte of man,
Your mother weeping,
And your disciple St John,
How your back was scourged,
And your side pierced through
For the guilt of man,
10   Hu thi fet ibledden
An ti honde he spredden
That he miten telle thi boan
Hu the stoanes tobreken,
The dede arisen an speken,""
How your feet bled
And they stretched out your hands
So they could count your bones,
How the stones shattered,
The dead arose and spoke,
15 The sunne vex al wan,
No selli theth I wepe
An mi sinnes bette
If I liuien wel can.


The sun grew very pale,
No wonder if I weep,
And atone for my sins,
If I know how to live properly.
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