Capitulo xl

Whan I hadde herd the sentence of my Iugement I was wonder glad be cause of my sekyrnesse that I shold be saued. So thenne withoute moche taryeng, ful smartely had Iustyce arrayed my fardel by comman­dement of the prouost. And in this mene tyme ful merueylous thynges I bothe sawe and herd. There come an huge company of pylgryms syn­gynge with a ioyeful tone, eueryche of them more bryght shynyng than the sonne at myddaye, hauynge with them eueryche his owne Angel that led them by theyr handes. And this was the noble songe that I herd them synge:

Honoured be thou, Blysful Lord on hye,
That of the Blessyd Mayden was y bore
And with thy deth vs boughtest myghtely.
Thyne owne flesshe and blood thou yafe vs fore,
And for vs suffred peynes wondre sore.
Bothe feete and hand nayled to the roode,
And bleddest al thy veray hertes blood.

Honoured thou be Fader Souerayne,
That vouchesauf suche raunson for to sende
Thyne owne loued Sone to suffre payne
Oure mysese and oure meschyef to amende.
Thou Holy Ghoost, that art withouten ende
With Fader and Sonne one God in Trynyte,
For euer honoured be thy Mageste.

Also thou Blysful Mayd and Moder Mylde,
Thou Lady, Quene, and Heuenly Emperyce,
Whome Ihesu chese to be thyn owne chylde,
Thou were his very moder and noryce.
Thou Floure of Vertue, Moder of Delyce,
Thou Turtle of Trist, thou Tresorer of Grace,
Honoured mote thou ben in euery place.

[31v]Honoured be thou, Blysful Lord Ihesu,
Suche Grace and Mercy haue we founde in the,
Suche Goodlyhede, suche Myght and suche Vertu,
Whyle that we haue in Purgatory be.
Of al our peyne relecyd now we be,
Whiche long tyme we haue abyden ynne,
But wonder short in regard of oure synne,

With whiche we haue thy Souerayn Blysfulhede
Ful greuously dysplesyd and offendyd,
In word and werk & with vnthryfty dede.
But thanked be thou, Lord, it is amendyd,
And now is al oure noious labour ended.
To the we come as thende of our labour,
Whiche wylneth euery trewe trauaylour

How the Angels Answerd

What tyme that these pylgryms had songen in this wyse, theyr Aun­gels that ledden them answerd another song ful swete & ful dely­cious, and seyden as it foloweth:



The Angels Song

Almyghty Lord, our Blysful Kyng Ihesu,
Thou Myrour of the Faders Mageste,
In whome is sene his Myghte & Vertu,
The Welle of Wytte & Wisedom is in the,
To whoos Presence now we retourned be
With the pylgryms whiche we to the bryngeth.
To thyn honoure ful ioyeful syngeth.

Towardes the ful long they haue trauayled.
Thou wotest thy self how they haue be distressid.
The fals fende ful sore hath them assailed
And greuously dysesyd & oppressyd.
But of thy Grace his malyce was repressyd,
And of thy Mercy wel they ben releuyd,
And theyr entent fully they haue acheuyd.

What labour and anguysshe haue we had
Syth that we took them in oure gouernaunce,
Ihesu thou wost. And now we ben ful glad
Of al that we haue done to thy plesaunce,
Wherfor thou wylt with reward vs auaunce,
Suche as the lyst aboue in thy Blysse.
There abyde in ioye euer withouten mysse!

Lo, we presentyn to thy hand ageyne,
Almyghty Lord, that thou to vs bytake.
Honoured be thou, Ihesu Souerayne!
Of al that we haue laboured for thy sake,
Of this laboure amende now thou make.
Thy creatures, vnto thy presence;
Receyue them of thyn hye beneuolence.

For though they haue ought erryd or myswent,
They haue abought it wonder hard & sore,
Y purged with grete peynes & torment,
As duely was aiuged them therfore.
Al though they had deseruyd moche
The remenaunt is relecyd of thy Grace;
In Heuen on hye assigned is theyr place.