(Continued)

Behold, they spit on me in scornful wise,

Who by my spittle gave the blind man eyes,

Leaving his blindness to my enemies:

                       Was ever grief like mine?

My face they cover, thought it be divine.

As Moses face was veiled, so is mine,

Lest on their double-dark souls either shine:

                       Was ever grief like mine?

Servants and cast offs mock me; they are witty:

Now prophesy who strikes thee, is their ditty.

So they in me deny themselves all pity:

                       Was ever grief like mine?

And now I am delivered unto death,

Which each one calls for so with utmost breath,

That he before me well nigh suffereth:

                       Was ever grief like mine?

Weep not, dear friends, since I for both have wept

When all my tears were blood, the while you slept:

Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept:

                       Was ever grief like mine?

The soldiers lead me to the Common Hall;

There they deride me, they abuse me all:

Yet for twelve heavenly legions I could call:

                       Was ever grief like mine?

Then with a scarlet robe they me array;

Which shows my blood to be the only way

And cordial left to repair man's decay:

                       Was ever grief like mine?

Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear:

For these are all the grapes Zion does bear,

Though I my vine planted and watered there:

                       Was ever grief like mine?

So sits the earth’s great curse in Adam’s fall

Upon my head: so I remove it all

From th’ earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall:

                       Was ever grief like mine?

Then with the reed they gave to me before,

They strike my head, the rock from thence all store

Of heavenly blessings issue evermore:

                       Was ever grief like mine?