XXI. Vnto Marie he that loue hath,
To here synge he: ‘Magnificat.’
1
Thus seide Mary of grete honoure:
‘My soule my lord dothe magnifie,
And in my god and sauyoure
My spirite reioyseth, verily.
2
For he the mekenes hath beholde
Of his handemayde, that lorde so good.
That I am blessed manyfolde,
Alle kynredes shall sey of myelde moode.
3
For he, that is so full of myght,
So grete thingis to me hath done.
Holy his name is ay of right,
By whome oure goostly helth is won.
4
And in alle tho, that hym doth drede
(Truly, thus seithe holy scripture),
His mercy dothe bothe spring and sprede,
And of heven they be fulle sure.
5
This myghty lorde of grete renowne
By his swete sonne the helthe hath wrought
Of meke people and hath put downe
Prowde people onely with a thought.
6
Tho, that desireth that lorde, oure helth,
That king of grace soo goode and swete,
Fro whome cometh alle goodenes and welth,
With alle vertue they be replete.
7
Of his grete mercy havyng myende
He toke nature in Ysraell
And became man to save mankynde,
To oure faders as he did telle.’
8
Ioye be to god in trinitie,
Fader and sonne and holigoost,
That was and is and ay shall be,
Bothe iij. and one, of myghtis moost.
