 | Yorkshire writers |  |
IX.
[Ihesu god son̄, lord of mageste]
Ihesu god son̄, lord of mageste,
Send wil to my hert anly to couayte þe;
Reue me lykyng of þis land, my lufe þat þou may be;
Take my hert in till þi hand, sett me in stabylte.
Send wil to my hert anly to couayte þe;
Reue me lykyng of þis land, my lufe þat þou may be;
Take my hert in till þi hand, sett me in stabylte.
Ihesu þe mayden son̄, þat wyth þi blode me boght,
Thyrl my sawule wyth þi spere, þat mykel luf in men hase wroght.
Me langes, lede me to þi lyght, & festen in þe al my thoght,
In þi swetnes fyll my hert, my wa make wane till noght.
Thyrl my sawule wyth þi spere, þat mykel luf in men hase wroght.
Me langes, lede me to þi lyght, & festen in þe al my thoght,
In þi swetnes fyll my hert, my wa make wane till noght.
Ihesu my god, Ihesu my keyng, forsake noght my desyre,
My thoght make it to be meke, I hate bath pryde and Ire:
þi wil es my ȝhernyng; of lufe þou kyndel þe fyre,
Þat I in swet louyng with aungels take my hyre.
My thoght make it to be meke, I hate bath pryde and Ire:
þi wil es my ȝhernyng; of lufe þou kyndel þe fyre,
Þat I in swet louyng with aungels take my hyre.
Wounde my hert with-in, & welde it at þi wille:
On blysse, þat neuer sal blyn, þou gar me fest mi skylle;
Þat I þi lufe may wyn, of grace my thoght þou fylle,
And make me clene of syn, þat I may come þe tylle.
On blysse, þat neuer sal blyn, þou gar me fest mi skylle;
Þat I þi lufe may wyn, of grace my thoght þou fylle,
And make me clene of syn, þat I may come þe tylle.
Rote it in my hert, þe memor of þi pyne:
In sekenes & in qwert þi lufe be euer myne;
My ioy es al of þe: my sawle take it as þine;
My lufe ay waxand be, sa þat it neuer dwyne.
In sekenes & in qwert þi lufe be euer myne;
My ioy es al of þe: my sawle take it as þine;
My lufe ay waxand be, sa þat it neuer dwyne.
My sang es in syghyng, whil I dwel in þis way;
My lyfe es in langyng, þat byndes me nyght & day,
Til I com̄ til my kyng, þat I won with hym may,
And se his fayre schynyng, & lyfe þat lastes ay.
My lyfe es in langyng, þat byndes me nyght & day,
Til I com̄ til my kyng, þat I won with hym may,
And se his fayre schynyng, & lyfe þat lastes ay.
Langyng es in me lent, for lufe þat I ne kan lete;
My lufe it hase me schent, þat ilk a bale may bete.
Sen þat my hert was brent in Cryste lufe sa swete,
Al wa fra me es went: & we sal neuer mete!
My lufe it hase me schent, þat ilk a bale may bete.
Sen þat my hert was brent in Cryste lufe sa swete,
Al wa fra me es went: & we sal neuer mete!
76
I sytt & syng of lufe-langyng, þat in my hert es bred:
Ihesu my keyng & my ioyng, whyne war I to þe led?
Ful wele I wate in al my state, in ioy I sulde be fed:
Ihesu me bryng til þi wonyng, for blode þat þou hase sched.
Ihesu my keyng & my ioyng, whyne war I to þe led?
Ful wele I wate in al my state, in ioy I sulde be fed:
Ihesu me bryng til þi wonyng, for blode þat þou hase sched.
Demed he was to hyng, þe faire aungels fode:
Ful sare þai gan hym swyng, when þat he bunden stode,
His bak was in betyng, & spylt hys blissed blode,
Þe thorn corond þe keyng, þat nayled was on þe rode.
Ful sare þai gan hym swyng, when þat he bunden stode,
His bak was in betyng, & spylt hys blissed blode,
Þe thorn corond þe keyng, þat nayled was on þe rode.
Whyte was his naked breste, & rede his blody syde,
Wan was his faire face, his woundes depe & wyde;
Þe iewþis wald not wande to pyne hym in þat tyde:
Als streme dose of þe strande, his blode gan downe glyde.
Wan was his faire face, his woundes depe & wyde;
Þe iewþis wald not wande to pyne hym in þat tyde:
Als streme dose of þe strande, his blode gan downe glyde.
Blynded was his faire ene, his flesch blody for-bette;
His lufsum lyf was layde ful low, & saryful vmbesette.
Dede & lyf began to stryf wheþer myght maystre mare,
When aungels brede was dampned to dede to safe oure sauls sare.
His lufsum lyf was layde ful low, & saryful vmbesette.
Dede & lyf began to stryf wheþer myght maystre mare,
When aungels brede was dampned to dede to safe oure sauls sare.
Lyf was slayne & rase agayne, in faire-hede may we fare;
And dede es broght til litel or noght, & kasten in endles kare.
On hym þat þe boght, hafe al þi thoght, & lede þe in his lare;
Gyf al þi hert til Crist þi qwert, & lufe hym euer-mare.
And dede es broght til litel or noght, & kasten in endles kare.
On hym þat þe boght, hafe al þi thoght, & lede þe in his lare;
Gyf al þi hert til Crist þi qwert, & lufe hym euer-mare.
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