There is so little continuity of thought in it,
that the stanzas might almost be arranged anyhow.
Jesu, thy love be all my thought;
Of other thing ne reck I nought; _reckon._
I yearn to have thy will y-wrought,
For thou me hast well dear y-bought.
Jesu, well may mine hearte see
That mild and meek he must be,
All unthews and lustes flee, _bad habits._
That feelen will the bliss of thee. _feel._
For sinful folk, sweet Jesus,
Thou lightest from the high house;
Poor and low thou wert for us.
Thine heart's love thou sendest us.
Jesu, therefore beseech I thee
Thy sweet love thou grant me;
That I thereto worthy be,
Make me worthy that art so free. _thou that art._
Jesu, thine help at my ending!
And in that dreadful out-wending, _going forth of the spirit._
Send my soul good weryyng, _guard._
That I ne dread none evil thing.
I shall next present a short lyric, displaying more of art than this
last, giving it now in the old form, and afterwards in a new one, that my
reader may see both how it looks in its original dress, and what it
means.
Wynter wakeneth al my care,
Nou this leves waxeth bare,
Ofte y sike ant mourne sare, _sigh; sore._
When hit cometh in my thoht
Of this worldes joie, how hit goth al to noht.
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