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63. Let not the Fiend Overcome Me

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Royal MS. 17. C. xvii

Ihū cryste, þat dyed on tre
And sofurred pyne for Adam syn,
Gyf me grace to worschepe þe,
For þe to plese I wolde begyn.
Swete Ihū, of mercy fre,
Graunt me grace þi luf to wyn,
And fleschely luf þu do fro me,
For Mary luf þat þu lyght in.
Lord, for þat ded þu dyed for me,
Late me neuer no luf begyn
Ware-thrugh þu suld dysplesyd be,
Nor I be blemyst wyt schame or syn.
98

Ihū, begynnere of my wele
And coueryng of my cares colde,
Me, soro-full, I pray þe hele,
Þat syn as wondyd many folde.
As þu had for me wondys fele,
And of þi sogette was þu salde,
Wen dede sall my days dele
My saule þu take into þi halde.
Swete Ihū, my luf lele,
Þat sofurd for me bothe hungur & colde,
Lat neuer þe ffend so wyt me mele
Þat he ouercome ȝong nor olde.
Ihū, thynk, þu boght me dere
Wyt harde payns & wondes sore,
Ryghtwys prince wytoutyn pere,
Lat me noȝt rest in syn no more;
And gyf me grace, hwyles I am here,
Wyt hert & wyll to do þi lore,
And wyt þi grace my saule þu clere,
Þat þe ffend as fyled wyt syne sore.
Swete Ihū, þu stand me nere
Wen he assayles me any more,
And lat hym neuer ourecome here,
To gar me syn as I dyd ore.
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