University of Virginia Library

The þryd commaundement yn oure lay
ys ‘holdë weyl þyn halyday,’
And come blelyche to þe seruyse
whan holy chyrche settyþ asyse.
Of al þe festys þat yn holy chyrche are,
Holy sunday men oght to spare;
Holy sunday ys byfore alle fre,
Þat euer ȝyt were, or euer shal be.
For þe pope may, þurgh hys powere,
Turne þe halydays yn þe ȝere
How as he wyl, at hys owne wyl,
But þe sunday shal stondë styl.
Þe halydays þat yn heruyst are,
In ȝolë he may sette hem þare,
And of þe ȝolë euery feste
May he settë yn herueste.
But, he may, þurgh no resun,
Þe sunday puttyn vp no dowun;
Þarfore þe sunday specyaly
ys hyest to halew, and most wurþy;
And þat day þou owyst and shal
For to herë þy seruyse al;
Matyns messe here, to rede or syngge,
Euery deyl to þe endyngge.
weyte þy tyme, and be nat þe last
To come whan holy watyr ys cast.
Come fyrst to matyns, ȝyf þat þou may,
For hyt ys goddys ownë day.
God made þe wrldë, este & west,
yn syxë days; þe seuenþe to reste.
Þan restyd he hym fro al erþly werkys.
How dur oþer prestys or clerkys,
Or þou lewed man, þat day werche,
whan þat day ys halewed yn holy chyrche?
Þe seruyng man, þat seruyþ yn þe ȝere,
Oweþ to come when he haþ leysere.
Ȝyf þou come noght, algate y rede
Ete noght ar þou haue holy brede,
For to many þyngës hyt may auayle,
To soule helpe, or lyuës trauayle.
Þy body, ȝyf it þan smartly endes,
Hyt ys for housyl aȝens þe fendes;
And holy watyr take of þe prestys hand,
For anoylyng hyt wyl þe stande.
Sum tyme hyt was wnt to be dowun
To halewe þe satyrday at þe noun,
Namëlyche yn Ing[e]londe;
And nawer so moche y vndyrstand.
when þat custome was wnt to be,
Þan was grace, & grete plente;
And þere men haunted þat custome lest,
Falleþ oft tymë grete tempest.
Þe satyrday ys specyaly
Ordeyned to wurschype oure lady,
And þat for a grete resun;—
whan Ihesu deyd þurgh passyun,
hys dyscyplys douted echoun
wheþer he shulde ryse or noun.
Alle þat beleued yn hym byfore,
Alle here beleuë was nygh forlore,
Fro þe fryday þat he deyde,
To tyme þat he ros, as he seyde.
But hys modyr, vyrgyne Marie,
She bare þe beleue vp stedfastly
Fro þe fryday at þe noun
Tyl alle þe satyrday was doun,
And alle þe nyȝt tyl þat he ros,
Of alle oure beleue she bare þe los;—
Þat, crystyn men beleuyn now echon,
In here þat tyme was hyt alone;
And for þat skylle, þan þynkeþ me,
Þe satyrday may here ounë be:
Þarefore þat day al holy cherche
Þeyr seruyse of here þey werche.
And ryȝt now for þe samë skylle,
A tale þerforë telle y wylle.