O synfull man, thir ar the fourty dayis

O SYNFULL man, thir ar the fourty dayis
That every man sulde wilfull pennence dre ;
Oure Lorde Jhesu, as haly writ sayis,
Fastit him self oure exampill to be ;
Sen sic ane michty king and lorde as he,
To fast and pray was so obedient,
We synfull folk sulde be more deligent.

I reid the, man, of thi transgressioun,
With all thi hert, that thow be penitent,
Thow schrive the clene, and mak confessioun,
And se thairto that thow be deligent,
With all thi synnes into thi mynde present,
That every syn be the selfe be schawin,
To thyne confessioun it ma be kend and knawin.

Apon thi body gif thow hes ane wounde
That caussis the gret panis for to feill,
Thair is no leiche ma mak the haill and sounde,
Quhill it be sene, and clengit every deill ;
Rycht sua thi schrift, bot it be schawin weill,
Thow art nocht abill remissioun for to get,
Wittandlie and thow suld ane syn forȝet.

Off tuenty woundis, and ane be left unhelit
Quhat awalis the leiching of the laif?
Rycht sua thi schrift, and thair be oucht concelit,
It avalis nocht thi sely saule to saif ;
Nor ȝit of God remissioun for to haif :
Of syn gif thow wald have deliverance,
Thow sulde it tell with all the circumstance.

Sa that thi confessour be wyss and discreit,
Than can the discharge of every doute and weir,
And power hes of thy synnes compleit :
Gif thow can nocht schaw furth thi synnes perqueir,
And he be blinde, and can nocht at the speir,
Thow ma rycht weill in thi mynde consydder
That ane blynde man is led furth be ane uther.

And sa I halde, that ȝe ar baith begylde ;
He can nocht speir, nor thow can nocht him tell,
Quhen, nor how, thi conscience thow hes fylde ;
Thairfor, I reid, that thow excuse thi sell,
And rype thi mynde how every thing befell,
The tyme, the place, and how, and in quhat wyis,
So that thi confessioun ma thi synnes pryce.

Awys the weill, or thou cum to the preist.
Of all thi synnes, and namelie of the maist,
That thai be reddy prentit in thi breist ;
Thow sulde nocht cum to schryfe the in greit haist,
And syne sit doun abasit as ane beist :
With humyll hart and sad contrytioun,
Thow suld cum to mak thine confessioun.

With thine awin mouth thi synnes thow suld tell ;
Bot sit and heir the preist hes nocht ado,
Quha kennes thi synnes better na thi sell ?
Thairfor, I reid the, tak gude tent thairto
Thow knawis best quhair bindis the thi scho ;
Thairfor, be wys afor or thow thair cum,
That thow schaw furth thi synnes all and sum.

Quhair seldin compt is tane, and hes a hevy charge,
And syne is rekless in his governance,
And on his conscience he takis all to large,
And on the end hes no rememberance,
That man is abill to fall ane gret mischance :
The synfull man that all the ȝeir our settis,
Fra Pasche to Pasche, rycht mony a thing forȝettis.

I reid the, man, quhill thow art stark and young,
With pith and strenth into thi ȝeris grene,
Quhill thow art abill baith in mynde and toung,
Repent the, man, and kepe thi conscience clene ;
Till byde till age is mony perrell sene :
Small merit is of synnes for to irke
Quhen thow art ald, and ma na wrangis wyrke.