Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/73

Angelus. Abraham! Abraham! thou fadyr fre.

  Abraham. I am here redy, what is ȝour wylle?

Angelus. Extende thin hand in no degré,
  I bydde thou hym not kylle!
Here do I se by ryght good skylle,
  Allemyghty God that thou dost drede.
For thou sparyst nat thi sone to spylle,—
  God wylle aqwhyte the welle thi mede.

Abraham. I thank my God in hevyn above,
  And hym honowre for this grett grace!
And that my Lord me thus doth prove,
  I wylle hym wurchep in every place.
My childys lyff is my solace,
  I thank myn God evyr for his lyff,
In sacrifice here or I hens pace,
  I sle this shepe with this same knyff.

Now this shepe is deed and slayn,
  With this fyre it xal be brent;
Of Isaac my sone I am ful fayn,
  That my swete childe xal not be shent.
This place I name, with good entent,
  The hille of Godys vesytacion:
ffor hedyr God hath to us sent
  His comforte, aftyr grett trybulacion.

Angelus. Herke, Abraham, and take good heyd!
  By hymself God hath thus sworne,
ffor that thou woldyst a done this dede,
  He wylle the blysse bothe evyn and morne.
ffor thi dere childe thou woldyst have lorn,
  At Goddys byddyng, as I the telle;
God hath sent the word beforn,
  Thi seed xal multyplye, wher so thou duelle.