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<poem> Abraham. Now we have wurchepyd oure blyssyd lorde, On grounde knelyng upon oure kne; Now lete us tweyn, sone, ben of on acorde, And goo walke hom into oure countré. Ysaac. ffadyr, as ȝe wylle, so xal it be, I am redy with ȝow to gon; I xal ȝow folwe with hert fulle fre; Alle that ȝe bydde me, sone xal be don. Abraham. Now, God alle thyng of nowth that made, Evyr wurcheppyd he be on watyr and londe! His gret honowre may nevyr more fade, In felde nor town, se nor on sonde! As althyng, Lord, thou hast in honde, So save us alle, wher so we be,— Whethyr we syttyn, walk, or stonde, Evyr on thin handwerke thou have pyté! Explicit.
