The Minor Poems of John Lydgate :: :: University of Virginia Library

God, in thy name make me safe and sounde;
And in thi vertu me deme & Iustifie,
And as my leche serch vnto the grounde
That in my soule ys seke, and rectifie:
To haue medicine afore thi dome y crye,
Wherfore of endeles mercy ax y grace
That y desposed be vch day to dye,
And so to mende, whyll y haue tyme & space.

Deus exaudi.

God, graciously here thou my prayere,
The wordes of my mouth with ere perceyue,
And as thou on the rode hast bought me dere,
So make me able thi mercy to receyue;
Yf that the fende with frawde wolde me deceyue,
In thi ryght syde ther be my resting place;
Ther ys my confort, as y clere conceyue,
Whych may me mende, whill y haue tyme & space.

Quum alieni.

For alienes, lord, haue ryse agaynes me,
And peple stronge my sely soule haue sought;
But for they purpose not to loke on the,
Gramercy, lord, hir malyce greueth nought.
Thi passioun be emprinted in my thought,

The chefe resort my fleschly foo to chase;
On hit to be remembred well y aught,
Which may me mende, whyll y haue tyme & space.

Ecce enim deus.

Behold, for soth, þat god hath holpen me,
And of my soule our lorde ys vp-taker;
Wher y was thrall, lord, thou hast made me fre;
Whom shall y thank bot the, my God, my maker?
When y shall slepe, my keper and my waker,
In eueri peryll my confort and my grace;
For of the synfull art thou not forsaker,
That wyll amende, whill they haue tyme & space.

Auerte mala.

Turne euell thynges vnto my mortall foon,
And in thi treuth disperpyll hem and spylle,
So that they be confounded euerychone
That wolde me stere to dysobaye thi wyll,
The dewe of loue and drede on me distyll,
That dedely synne ne do me not deface;
That y thi hestys fayle not to fulfille,
Whech may me mende, whyll y haue tyme & space.

Voluntarie sacrificabo.

I shall do to the wylfull sacrifice,
And knoulech to thi name, for it is good.
All oder worldely weele y wyll dispice
That floweth oft, and ebbeth as the floode.
Thy blesed body, sacred flesh and blode
With all my hert beseche y euer of grace
Hit to receyue, in clennes for my foode,
Hit may me mende, whill y haue tyme & space.

Cuum ex omni tribulacione.

For fro all trouble thou hast delyuered me,
And on enmyes myn eye hath had despite,
Wher-fore y wyll perseuer all way with the
In full entent that kyndenesse for to quite;
And that y may performe thus my delite,
Helpe, mayden clene, & modyr full of grace!
That neuer the fende me finde in oder plite,
But euer to mende, whill y haue tyme & space.

Gloria patri et filio.

Ioye to the Fader, full of grace & might,
Whos hye powere all thyng may preserue!
Ioye to the Sone, that in a virgyn lyght
And for oure gylt vpon a cros wold sterue!
Ioye to the Holy Gost, that doth conserue
Oure clere conceyte by confort of his grace!
O blessed Trinite! well owe we to reserue
Louynge to the, whill we haue tyme & space.

Sicut erat in principio.

That ys and was, with-owte begynnyng,
Thre in oo substaunce, hye god in commvtable,
With-owte ende, eternall, enduryng,
All-myghty, ryghtwys, and mercyable,
Gracious to all contrite, and confortable;
Both lord and leche to all that lust haue grace;
Wyth oyle of mercy, to myscheue medcynable,
Hele all myn hirt of synne with tyme & space.

Explicit.