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