O all ye who pass by, behold and see; Man stole the fruit, but I must climb the tree; The tree of life to all, but only me: Was ever grief like mine? “Now heal thy self, Physician; now come down.” Alas! I did so, when I left my crown And father’s smile for you, to feel his frown: Was ever grief like mine? In healing not my self, there doth consist all that salvation, which ye now resist; Your safety in my sickness doth subsist: Was ever grief like mine?139
