LXXX.
[1]
Glades to god our helpher with blis,
Mirthes to god of Iacob is.
2
Nimes psalmes, and giues timpan,
Sautre winsome with harp on-an.
3
Blawes in beme of newmone be,
In miri dai of your solempnite;
4
For boden ite es in Irael,
And dome to god of Iacob wel.
5
Wittenes in Iosep forto be
Þat ilka thinge set he,
Fra þe land of Egipte when he ferd;
Tunge þat he ne knewe he herd.
6
He turned fra birthines his bake ai;
His hend in hoper serued þai.
7
“In drouinge kalledeste þou me,
And .i. lesed þe; and .i. herd þe
In hidel of storme: þe fanded .i.
Ate watre of againsaw for-þi:
8
‘Here, mi folke, and .i. sal witnes þe;
Irael, if þou had herd me,
Fresche god bes noght in þi thoghte,
Ne fremed god bid saltou noght.
9
.I. sothlike am lauerd to se,
Þi god, whilke þat outled þe
Fra land of Egipte at þi wille;
Þi mouth outsprede and .i. it sal fille.’
10
And noghte herd mi folke mi steuen,
And Irael noght biheld to me euen.
11
And .i. left am after þar herte gerninges;
Þai sal ga in þair findinges.
12
If mi folke haued herd me,
Irael in mi wais if gane had he,
13
For noght thurgh hap had .i. meked þar faas,
And sent mi hand ouer drouand þas.
14
Faas of lauerd to him lighed þa,
And þar time sal be in werldes swa.
16
And with fatnes of whete he fed am ai,
And of stane of honi he filled am ai!”
