My lord God is ful of lyste,
To glathe 3ow for his geste.
And therfore, kynges, whan 3e ryse,
Wendyth forthe be weys wyse,
Ther 3our halle be sett in syse,
In dyverse londe.
The fadyr of God in alle thynge
Hath 30w grawntyd his swete blyssynge,
He xal 30w save from alle shendynge,
With his ryght honde.
Tunc surgant reges, et dicat
Primus Rew. A bryght sterre ledde us into Bedleem,-
A bryghter thynge I saw in drem,
Bryghtere than the sunne beene,
An aungelle I saw ryght here.
The fayre floure that here gan falle,
from Herowdys kynge he gan us kalle,
He taught us hom tylle our halle
A wey by another mere.
Secundus Rea. I sawghe a syght,
Myn hert is lyght
To wendyn home.
God, ful of myght
Hath us dyght
fro develys dome.
Tertius Rea. Oure God I blysse,
He sent us, i-wys
His aungel bryght.
Now we be wake,
The wey to take
Home fulleryght.
Symeon Justus. I have be prest in Jherusalem here,
And tawth Goddys lawe many a 3ere,
Desyrynge in alle my mende,
That the tyme we neyhand nere,
In whiche Goddys son xul apere,
In erthe to take mankende.
Or I deyd that I myght fynde,
My Savyour with myney to se;
But that it is so longe behynde,
It is grett dyscomforte onto me.
for I waxe olde and wante my myght,
And begynne to fayle my syght,
The more I sorwe this tyde;
Save only, as I telle 3ow ryght,
God of his grace hath me hyght,
That blysful byrth to byde;
Wherfore now here besyde,
To Sancta Sanctorum wyl I go,
To pray God to be my gyde,
To comfort me aftyr my wo.
Here Symeon knelyth and seyth,
A gode God in Trinité !
Whow longe xal I abyde the,
Tyl that thou son thou doth sende,
That I in erthe myght hym se?
Good Lord, consydyr to me,
I drawe fast to an ende ;
That or my strenthis fro me wende,
Gode Lorde, send dow thi son,
That I with my ful mende,
Myght wurcheppe hym, if I con.
Bothe with my fete and hondys to,
To go to hym and handele also,
My eyn to se hym in certayn.
My tonge for to speke hym to,
And alle my lemys to werk and do,
In his servyse to be bayn.
Send forth thison, my Lord sovereyn,
Hastely anon withowte teryenge;
for fro this world I wolde be sayn,
It is contrary to my levynge.
Angelus. Symeon, leff thi careful stevene,
for thi prayer is herd in hevene;
To Jherusalem fast now wynne.
And ther xalt se ful evene,
He that is Goddys son for to nevene,
In the templ ther thou dwellyst inne.
The darknes of orygynal synne,
He xal make lyght and clarefye;
And now the dede xal begynne,
Whiche hath be spokyn be prophecye.
Symeon. A | I thank the, Lord of grace,
That hath grauntyd me tyme and space,
To lyve and byde thys
And I wyl walk now to the place,
Where I may se thi sonys face,
Whiche is my joye and blys.
I was nevyr lyghtere i-wys,
To walke nevyr here beforn;
for a mery tyme now is,
Whan God my lord is born.
Anna Prophetessa. Al heyl, Symeon what tydynges with
3ow?
Why make 3e al this myrth now?
Telle me whedyr 3e fare.
Symeon. Anne prophetes, and 3e wyst whou,
So xulde 3e, I make avow,
And alle maner men that are.
for Goddys son, as I declare,
Is born to bye mankende;
Oure Savyour is come to sesyn oure care;
Therfore have I grett merthe to wende.
And that is the cawse I hast me
Onto the temple hym to se ;
And therfor lett me not, good frende :
Anna. Now blyssyd be God in Trinyté,
Syn that tyme is come to be,
And with 30w wyl I wende.
To se my Savyour ende,
And wurcheppe hym also,
With alle my wytt and my ful mende,
As I am bound, now wyl I do.
Et tuncibunt ambo ad templum et prophetissa,
Symeon. In the temple of God who undyrstod,
This day xal be offeryd with mylde mood,
Whiche that is kynge of alle;
That xal be skorgyd and shedde his blood,
And aftyr dyen on the rood,
Withowtyn cawse to calle.
for whos passyon ther xal beffalle,
Swyche a sorwe bothe sharpe and smerte;
That a swerd perce it xalle,
3evene thorwe his moderys herte.
Anna. 3a, that xal be, as I wel fynde,
for redempcion of alle mankende,
That blysse for to restore.
Whiche hath be lost fro oute of mende,
As be oure fadyr of oure owyn kende,
Adam and Eve beffore.
Maria. Joseph my husbond withowtyn mys,
3e wote that ffourty days nere is,
Sythe my sonys byrth ful ryght;
Wherfore we must to the temple i-wys,
Therfor to offre oure sone of blys,
Up to his fadyr in hyght.
And I in Goddys syght,
Puryfyed for to be;
In clene sowle with al my myght,
In presence of the Trinyté.
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Joseph. To be purefyed have 3e no nede, ;
Nethi son to be offryd, so God me spede;
for fyrst thou art ful clene,
Undefowlyd in thought and dede;
And anothyr, thison withowtyn drede,
Is God and man to mene.
Wherefore it nedyd not to bene,
But to kepe the lawe on Moyses wyse ;
Wherefore we xal take us betwene
Dowys and turtelys for sacresyce.
Etibunt ad templum.
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