Pious Counsale Poem by Walter Kennedy

Leiff luif, my luif, no langir I it lyk,
Altir our amowris in to observance;
Eschew þe sword of vengence, or it stryk;
Oure lust, and plesance turne we in pennance;
Of misdeidis mend; of kissing mak conscience.
Confess our sinnis, and Sathanas oursett;
Puneis oure flesche for oure grit offence;
Haif eye to God, and brek þe Divellis nett.
Voluptuous lyfe, quhy þinkis þow so sweit,
Knawing þe deiþe þat no man may evaid?
Syne persaveris in fleschelie lust and heit,
Now sawis may þe frome þy synnis dissuaid,
Contempning God, of nocht þat hes þe maid;
Trusting into þis brukill lyfe and vane;
Repent in tyme, devoid þe of þis laid,
And knaw in hell þair is eternall pane!