"Leve thou in oure Loverd God 1585
That al the werld wrought,
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Holy heven eke on hey
Holliche he fourmede,
And is almyghti hymself
Over alle his werkes. 1590
And wrought as his wil was
The werld and the heven;
And on gentil Jesu Christ,
Engendred of hymselven,
His owen onlyche sone,
Lord over all y-knowen,
That was clenlich conceived
Clerli in trewthe
Of the heye Holy Gost,
This is the holy beleve. 1600
And of the maiden Marye
Man was he born,
Withouten synful seed,
This is fully the byleve.
With thorn y-crouned, crucified,
And on the cros dyede,
And sythen his blessed body
Was in a stone byried,
And descended a-doun
To the derk helle, 1610
And fet out our formfaderes,
And hy ful fayn weren.
The thyrd day redeliche
Hymself ros fram deeth,
And, on a ston there he stod,
He steigh up to hevene,
And on his fader ryght hand
Redelich he sitteth,
That almyghti God,
Over alle other whyghtes; 1620
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And is herafter to commen,
Christ all himselven,
To demen the quyke and the dede,
Withouten any doute.
And in the heighe Holy Gost
Holly I beleve;
And generall holy chirche also,
Hold this in the minde;
The communion of sayntes,
For soth I to the sayn; 1630
And for our great sinnes
Forgivenes for to getten,
And only by Christ
Clenlich to be clensed;
Our bodies again to risen
Right as we been here;
And the liif everlasting
Leve ich to habben. Amen.
"Although this flatterynge freres
Wyln, for her pryde, 1640
Disputen of Godes deyté,
As dotardes shulden,
The more the matere is moved
The masedere hi worthen.
Lat the loseles alone,
And leve thou the trewthe;
For these maystres of dyvynité
Many, als I trowe,
Folwen nought fully the feith,
As fele of the lewede. 1650
Whough may mannes wiit,
Through werk of himselve,
Knowen Christes privité,
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That alle kynde passeth?
It mot ben a man
Of also mek an herte,
That myght with his good liif
The Holy Gost fongen;
And thanne nedeth him nought
Nevere for to studyen; 1660
He myght no maistre ben cald,
For Christ that defended,
Ne puten no pylion
On his pild pate,
But prechen in parfit liif,
And no pryde usen.
But al that ever I have seyd,
Soth it me semeth;
And al that evere I have wryten
Is soth, as I trowe; 1670
And for amendyng of thise men
Is most that I write.
God wolde hy wolden ben war,
And werchen the betere!
But for I am a lewed man,
Paraunter I myghte
Passen par adventure,
And in some poynt erren,
I wil nought this matere
Maistrely avowen. 1680
But gif ich have mys-said,
Mercy ich aske,
And pray al mannere men
This matere amende,
Ich a word by hymself,
And al, gif it nedeth.
God of his grete myght,
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And his good grace,
Save alle freres
That feithfulli lybben! 1690
And alle tho that ben fals,
Fayre hem amende,
And gyve hem wiit and good wil
Swiche dedes to werch,
That thei may wynnen the liif
That evere shal lesten."
_Amen._
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