THREE MIDDLE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS LYRICS 



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Rote it in my hert, t)e memor of t)i pyne: 

 In sekenes & in quert t>i lufe be euer myne; 

 My icy es al of te: my sawle take it as fine; 

 My lufe ay waxand be, sa fat it neuer dwyne 



Leerne to loue if f ou wolt lyue 



Whanne fou schalt hens fare; 

 Al f i f oujt to him f ou 3eue 



Pat may fee kepe from care; 

 Loke f ou fin herte fro him not twynne 



Pou3 f ou wandre euery where, 

 So f ou may weelde him with-inne, 



And loue him hertiU euermore. 40 



My sang es in syghyng, whil I dwel in f is way; 

 My lyfe es in langyng, fat byndes me nyght & day, 

 Til I com til my kyng, fat I won with hym may, 

 And se his fayre schynyng, & lyfe fat lastes ay. 



Ihesu, fat me loue hast lende, 



In-to f i loue f ou me bringe. 

 Take to fee al myn entente 



I>at f ou be to me myn Jeminge, 

 And fat synne from me awei were went. 



And loue come myn owne coueitynge, 

 I>at my soule hadde herd & hent 



Pe songe of f i sweete louynge. 



Langyng es in me lent, for lufe fat I ne kan lete; 

 My lufe it base me schent, fat ilk a bale may bete. 

 Sen fat my hert was brent in Cryste lufe sa swete, 

 Al wa fra me es went: & we sal neuer mete! 



Pi loue is to us euerelastynge 



Fro fat tyme fat we may verrili fele, 

 Perinne make we euere brennynge, 



Pat no f ing may uerriU keele. 

 Mi foujt, take it into fin hand. 



And stable f ou it ilke a dele, 

 Pat y be no f ing hildande 



To loue uerrili f e worldis wele. 



I sytt & syng of lufe-langyng, fat in my hert es 



bred: 

 Ihesu my keyng & my ioyng, whyne war I to f e led ? 

 Ful wele I wate in al my state, in ioy I sulde be fed: 

 Ihesu me bryng til fi wonyng, for blode fat fou 



base sched. 



If y loue ony erf eU f ing 



Pat paief to my wille. 

 And sette my ioie in foule likinge, 



Whanne it may come me tylle. 

 I may drede at my departynge 



Pat it wole be attir & ille. 

 For alle my welf is ben wepinge 



whanne peyne my soule wolde spille 



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Demed he was to hj-ng, fe faire aungels fode: 

 Ful sare f ai hym swyng, when fat he bunden stode. 

 His bak was in betyng, & spylt hys blissed blode, 

 Pe thorn corond fe keyng, fat nay led was on f e 

 rode. 



Pe ioie fat men heere seen 



Is ful likinge vnto fe ijee; 

 Pat now is fair, freische, and grene, 



And anoon aftir is welkid awey: 

 Pis is e world, alle men moun seen. 



And wole be vnto domysday, 

 Ful greet traueile, & myche tene; 



To flee fat is ful hard in fay. 



Whvte was his naked breste, & red his blody syde. 



Wan was his faire face, his woundes depe & wyde 



Pe iew is wald not wande to pyne hym in fat tyde: 



Als streme does of f e strande, his blode gan downe 



glyde. 



If fou leue yuel in al f i f oujt. 



And hate f e filthe of synne 

 And Jeve to him fat fee dere boujt, 



Pat he weelde fee with-inne, 

 Al f i soule f i lord haf soujt. 



And f erof he wolde not mynne; 

 Pus schalt fou to blis be broujt. 



And wonye heyene wif -ynne. 



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