Maria cum puero et Josep fugientes in Egiptum, angelo
JOSEPH¶ Thou maker that most is of might,
To thy mercy I make now my moan.
Lord, see unto thy simple wight,
That has no help but thee alone.
For all this world have I forsaken,
And to thy service have me taken
With wit and will
For to fulfil
Thereon my heart is set
With grace thou has me lent;
There shall none alive me let.
For all my trust, Lord, is in thee
That made me man to thy likeness;
Thou mighty maker, have mind on me,
And see unto my simpleness.
I wax as weak as any wand;
For feebleness, fail foot and hand.
Whatever it mean,
Methinks mine eyne
Heavy as lead.
Therefore I hold it best
Awhile here in this stead
To sleep and take my rest.
MARY¶ Thou lovely lord that last shall aye,
My God, my Lord, my son so dear,
To thy Godhead heartily I pray
With all my heart wholly entire.
As thou me to thy mother chose,