By a way wandering as I went,
Well sore I sorrowed, for sighing sad;
Of hard haps that I had hent
Mourning me made almost mad;[37]

Till a letter all one me lad[38],
That well was written on a wall,
A blissful word that on I rad[39],
That alway said, 'Thank God for[40] all.'

And yet I read furthermore[41]--
Full good intent I took there till[42]:
Christ may well your state restore;
Nought is to strive against his will; _it is useless._
He may us spare and also spill:
Think right well we be his thrall. _slaves._
What sorrow we suffer, loud or still,
Alway thank God for all.

Though thou be both blind and lame,
Or any sickness be on thee set,
Thou think right well it is no shame-- _think thou._
The grace of God it hath thee gret[43].
In sorrow or care though ye be knit, _snared._
And worldés weal be from thee fall, _fallen._
I cannot say thou mayst do bet, _better._
But alway thank God for all.

Though thou wield this world's good,