 | Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century |  |
216
141. Thy Gifts I Have Expended Unprofitably
O Lord allmyghty, blissid thou be,
That hast me formyd and redemyd;
And whenne y was dampnable thou suffrid me,
And to penaunce reseruyd that synne flemyd.
I knowlych, lord, thy mageste be quemyd,
All that to my helth y had of thi gyfte,
Vnprofitably, as to thy sight hit semyd,
I haue expendid thurgh dampnabill schyfte—
That hast me formyd and redemyd;
And whenne y was dampnable thou suffrid me,
And to penaunce reseruyd that synne flemyd.
I knowlych, lord, thy mageste be quemyd,
All that to my helth y had of thi gyfte,
Vnprofitably, as to thy sight hit semyd,
I haue expendid thurgh dampnabill schyfte—
That is to say, the tyme of my penaunce
In vanitees, and in superfluite
My body also, in pride and distaunce
The grace of my baptyme; but allthyng worldle,
My lord, y haue louyd more than the,
My redemptour, my noryssher and my conseruatour.
Therfor mercy y axe, as a wrecch in degre.
And for y knew not, blyssid savioure,
In vanitees, and in superfluite
My body also, in pride and distaunce
The grace of my baptyme; but allthyng worldle,
My lord, y haue louyd more than the,
My redemptour, my noryssher and my conseruatour.
Therfor mercy y axe, as a wrecch in degre.
And for y knew not, blyssid savioure,
Thy benigne pacience that thou had to me;
Thy gastfull Iugement, lord, y ne drade,
Ne lernyd what answer y shuld gyf the
ffor the innumerable godes that y had,
But contrarie, fro day to day ayenst my furst vowe,
With wikked dedis prouokid the.
Therfor, but oon word y haue to the nowe,
That is forto say, domine miserere!
Thy gastfull Iugement, lord, y ne drade,
Ne lernyd what answer y shuld gyf the
ffor the innumerable godes that y had,
But contrarie, fro day to day ayenst my furst vowe,
With wikked dedis prouokid the.
Therfor, but oon word y haue to the nowe,
That is forto say, domine miserere!
217
Haue mercy, god, of my mysdede!
ffor thy mercy, that mychell is,
latt thy pitee spryng and sprede,
And graunte that nevir here-after y do amys.
ffor thy mercy, that mychell is,
latt thy pitee spryng and sprede,
And graunte that nevir here-after y do amys.
| Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century | |