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[Hay, hay, take goode hede wat you say]

Hay, hay, take goode hede wat you say,
A doums day we schull y see,
Fadere and Sone in Trinite,
With grete powere and magisti,
And angelys in grete aray.
And angels with a trumpet shall blow,
That all the worlde schall yt yknow.
They that beyne in yȝrthe soo low,
They schull a ryse all off þe clay;


They that byne in soo deppe,
They schull to thys trumpat take heede,
And a ryse and full sorre wyppe,
That euer they wer to yenst to say.
God hymsellfe, suuer hyt ys,
That schall eue the dome, I wys.
And therfore owys hym þt hath ido amys.
Ffore there they schull rehersse here pay,
Holy, holy, holy, holy, holy, yffy, yffy.
Letabundus exultet fidelis chorus Alleluia.
Now well may we myrthys make

gaudeamus.


Ffor Jesu mankynde hathe take,
Off a mayden with outyn make [mate].
A kyng of kynges now forthe ys browȝt
Off a maydyne þt synnyd nowght,
Nether in dede, nether in thowȝht.

res miranda.


An angell of counseil now ys bore
Off a mayd, as y sayd be fore,

sol de stella.


To saw [save] all þt was for lore.
That sonne hath neuer downe goyng,
And thys lyghte no tyme lesyng

semper clara.


Þys stere ys euermore schenyng,
Ryght as þe stere browȝht forght a beme,
Oute of the wyche commyȝth a marvelose streme,
So dude þt mayde withowtyn weme

deipara forma.


Holy, holy, and yfy, yffy, holy, yffy, holi.