My lord God is ful of lyste,
To glathe ȝow for his geste.
And therfore, kynges, whan ȝe ryse,
Wendyth forthe be weys wyse,
Ther ȝour halle be sett in syse,
In dyverse londe.
The ffadyr of God in alle thynge
Hath ȝow grawntyd his swete blyssynge,
He xal ȝow save ffrom alle shendynge,
With his ryght honde.
Tunc surgant reges, et dicat
Primus Rex. A bryght sterre ledde us into Bedleem,—
A bryghter thynge I saw in drem,
Bryghtere than the sunne beeme,
An aungelle I saw ryght here.
The fayre floure that here gan falle,
ffrom Herowdys kynge he gan us kalle,
He taught us hom tylle our halle
A wey by another mere.
Secundus Rex. I sawghe a syght,
Myn hert is lyght
To wendyn home.
God, fful of myght
Hath us dyght
ffro develys dome.
Tertius Rex. Oure God I blysse,
He sent us, i-wys
His aungel bryght.
Now we be wake,
The wey to take
Home fulle ryght.
