Die Gedichte des Franziskaners Jakob Ryman | ||
XXI. Vnto Marie he that loue hath,
To here synge he: ‘Magnificat.’
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Thus seide Mary of grete honoure:‘My soule my lord dothe magnifie,
And in my god and sauyoure
My spirite reioyseth, verily.
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For he the mekenes hath beholdeOf his handemayde, that lorde so good.
That I am blessed manyfolde,
Alle kynredes shall sey of myelde moode.
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For he, that is so full of myght,So grete thingis to me hath done.
Holy his name is ay of right,
By whome oure goostly helth is won.
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And in alle tho, that hym doth drede(Truly, thus seithe holy scripture),
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And of heven they be fulle sure.
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This myghty lorde of grete renowneBy his swete sonne the helthe hath wrought
Of meke people and hath put downe
Prowde people onely with a thought.
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Tho, that desireth that lorde, oure helth,That king of grace soo goode and swete,
Fro whome cometh alle goodenes and welth,
With alle vertue they be replete.
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Of his grete mercy havyng myendeHe toke nature in Ysraell
And became man to save mankynde,
To oure faders as he did telle.’
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Ioye be to god in trinitie,Fader and sonne and holigoost,
That was and is and ay shall be,
Bothe iij. and one, of myghtis moost.
Die Gedichte des Franziskaners Jakob Ryman | ||