Spit in my face you Jewes, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoffe, scourge, and crucifie mee,
For I have sinn'd, and sinn'd, and onely hee,
Who could do no iniquitie, hath
dyed:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sinnes, which passe the Jewes
impiety:
They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I
Crucifie him daily,
being now glorified.
Oh let mee then, his strange love still admire:
Kings
pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came cloth'd in vile harsh
attire
But to supplant, and with gainfull intent:
God cloth'd himselfe in
vile mans flesh, that so
Hee might be weake enought to suffer woe.