The ninth Revelation is of the lekyng etc., of three Hevyns, and the infinite love of Criste, desiring every day to suffre for us, if He myght, althow it is not nedeful. Twenty-second chapter.

Than seyd our good Lord Jesus Christe, askyng, Art thou wele payd that I suffrid for thee? I sayd, "Ya, good Lord, gramercy; ya, good Lord, blissid mot thou be." Than seyd Jesus, our kinde Lord, If thou art payde, I am payde; it is a joy, a blis, an endles lekyng to me that ever suffrid I passion for the, and if I myht suffre more, I wold suffre more. In this felyng my understondyng was lifte up into Hevyn, and there I saw thre Hevyns, of which syght I was gretly mervelyd. And thow I se thre Hevyns, and all in the blissid manhode of Criste, non is more, non is less, non is heyer, non is lower, but evyn lyke in blis.

For the first Hevyn Christe shewyd me His Fader, in no bodyly lyknes, but in His properte and in His werkyng; that is to sey, I saw in Criste that the Fader is. The werkyng of the Fader is this, that He gevyth mede to His son Jesus Criste. This geft and this mede is so blisful to Jesus, that His Fader myht have goven Hym no mede that myght have lykyd Hym better. The first Hevyn - that is the plesyng of the Fader - shewid to me as an Hevyn, and it was ful blisfule, for He is ful plesed with al the dedes that Jesus hath done aboute our salvation. Wherefore we be not only His be His beyeng but also by the curtes geft of His Fader. We be His blis, we be His mede, we be His worshippe, we be His corone; and this was a singular mervel and a full delectable beholdying, that we be His corone. This that I sey is so grete blis to Jesus that He settith at nowte al His travel, and His herd passion, and His cruel and shamful deth.

And in these words, If that I might suffre more, I would suffer more, I saw sothly that as often as He myght deyen, so often He wold, and love should never let Him have rest til He had don it. And I beheld with gret diligens for to wetyn how often He would deyn if He myght, and sotly the noumbre passid myn understondyng and my wittis so fer that my reson myghte not ne coude comprehend it; and whan He had thus oft deyid, or should, yet He would sett it at nowte for love, for al thynkyth Him but litil in reward of His love. For thowe the swete manhood of Criste might suffre but onys, the godenes in Him may never sesin of profir. Every day He is redy to the same if it myght be. For if He seyd He wold for my love make new Hevyns and new erth, it were but litil in reward, for this might be done every day if He wold, withoute any travel. But for to dey for my love so often that the noumbre passith creature reson - it is the heyest profir that our Lord God myght make to manys soule, as to my syte.

Than menyth He thiss: How shold it than be that I shold not do for thi love al that I myght, which dede grevyth me not, sith I wold for thi love dey so often having no reward to my herd peynys? And here saw I for the second beholdyng in this blissid passion, the love that made Him to suffre passith as far al His peynes as Hevyn is above erth, for the peynes was a nobele, worshipfull dede don in a tyme be the werkyng of love. And love was without begynnyng, is, and shall be without endyng; for which love He seyd ful swetely these words, If I myght suffre more, I wold suffre more. He sayd not, "If it were nedeful to suffre more"; for thow it were not nedeful, if He myght suffre more, He wold. This dede and this werke about our salvation was ordeynyd as wele as God myght ordeyn it. And here I saw a full blisse in Criste, for His blisse shold not a be full if it myte any better have be done.