Ludus Coventriæ

by Unknown

XXI. THE BAPTISM OF CHRIST.

Johannes. Ecce vox clamantis in deserto!

I am the voyce of wyldernese,

That her spekyth and prechyth yow to;

Loke ȝe forsake alle wrecchidnesse!

fforsake alle synne that werkyth woo,

And turne to vertu and holynese!

Beth clene of levyng in your sowle also;

Than xalle he be savyd from peynfulnese

Of fyere brynnyng in helle!

If that ȝe forsak synne,

Hevyn blysse xalle ȝe wyne,

Drede ȝe not the devylles gynne,

With angells xalle ȝow dwelle!

Penitenciam nunc agite!

Appropinquabit regnum cœlorum!

ffor your trespas penaunce do ȝe,

And ȝe xalle wyne hevyn Dei deorum!

In hevyn blyse ye xalle wyn to be,

Among the blyssyd company omnium supernorum;

Ther as is alle merth, joye, and glee,

Inter agmina angelorum,

In blyse to abyde!

Baptyme I cowncelle yow for to take,

And do penaunce for ys synnys sake,

And for your offens amendys ȝe make,

Your synnys for to hyde.

I gyff baptyme in water puere,

That is callyd flom Jordon;

My baptyme is but sygnysure

Of his baptyme that his lyke hath non!

He is a lord of gret valour,

I am not worthy to onbokylle his schon;

ffor he xalle baptyze, as seyth Scryptour,

That comyth of hem alle everychone

In the Holy Goost!

He may dampne and he may save,

Alle goodnesse of hem we have,

Ther may no man his werkes deprave,

ffor he is Lorde of myghtes most?

Hic accedit Jhesus ad Johannem, quem intuens Johannes dicat, digito demonstrans Jhesum, “Ecce agnus Dei qui tollit peccata mundi!”

Beholde! the lombe of God is this,

That comyth now here beforne;

The wich xalle wasche the worlds mys,

And save alle that that was forlorne:

This same lombe forsothe it is,

That of a mayd fulle clene was borne;

Shamfulle deth this lambe i-wys

Xalle suffer for us and be alle to-torne,

And rent on a roode!

He xalle suffer for mannys sake

Lytylle rest, and moche gret sorow and wrake;

Hys bake xalle be bowndyn to a stake,

And betyn owt alle his bloode!

Jhesus. John Baptyste, myn owyn good ffrende,

That ffeythffully dothe preche my wylle;

I the thanke with alle my mende,

ffor that good servyse thou dost me tylle.

Thy desyre is synne to shende,

Alle synful lyff thou woldyst spylle;

Thyn entente hath a good hende,

The lawe of God thou dost ffulffylle

This tyde.

Baptym to take I come to the,

And conferme that sacrement that newe xal be,

In flom Jordon thou baptyze me,

In watyr that is wyde.

Johannes. My lorde God, this behovyth me nought,

With myn hondys to baptyȝe the;

I xulde rather of the have sought

Holy baptym, than thou of me.

Jhesus. Suffyr now, John, my wyl were wrought,

Alle ryghtffullenes thus ffulfylle we;

Me to baptyȝe take thou no dowthe,

The vertu of mekenes here tawthe xal be,

Every man to lere.

And take ensawmple here by me,

How mekely that I come to the,

Baptym confermyd now xal be,

Me to baptyȝe take thou no dwere.

Johannes. Alle men may take example, lo!

Of lowly mekenes evyn ryght here,

Be oure Lorde God, that comyth me to,

Hese pore servaunt and his sutere.

Every man lere to werke ryght so,

Bothe kynge and caysere, and grett empere;

Be meke and lowe the pore man to,

And put out pryde in alle manere—

God dothe here the same!

To thi byddynge, my Lord so dere,

I me obey with gladsum chere,

And baptyȝe the with watyr clere,

Ever halwyd be thi name!

Spiritus Sanctus hic descendat super ipsum, et Deus, Pater Celestis, dicet in cœlo,

This is my welbelovyd chylde,

Over whome my spryte doth oversprede!

Clene, and pure, and undefylyd,

Of body, of sowle, ffor thought, for dede!

That he is buxhum, meke, and mylde,

I am wel plesyd withowtyn drede;

Wysly to wysse ȝow ffrom weys wylde,

To lysten his lore alle men I rede,

And ȝoure erys to herke.

Take good heede what he dothe preche,

And ffolwyth the lawys that he doth teche,

ffor he xal be ȝour altheris leche,

To save ȝow from develys derke.

Johannes Baptyst. Here I se with opyn syght,

The Sone of God that thou erte!

The Holy Goost over the doth lyght,

Thi faderes voys I here fful smerte.

The childe of God, as I the plyght,

That thou be, whilys I am qwerte,

I xalle wyttnes to every whyght,

And teche it trewly with alle myn hert;

To sese it were grett synne.

ffor Goddys sone I wurchypp the,

ffrom hevyn, thin hyȝ magesté,

Thu comyst hedyr ffrom dygnité,

Mannys sowle to wynne.

Jhesus. John Baptyste, thou be wyttnes,

The trewthe loke that thou nat hyde;

ffor now I passe forthe into wyldernes,

The Holy Gost xal be my gyde.

Hic Jhesus transit in desertum, dicens, etc.

In whylsum place of desertnes,

XL.ᵗⁱ days, a terme ful wyde,

And ffourty nyghtes, bothe more and lesse,

Withowtyn bodyly ffode ther to abyde;

ffor man thus do I swynke.

Into deserte I passe my way,

ffor mannys sake, as I ȝow say,

XL.ᵗⁱ nyghtes and xl.ᵗⁱ day,

I xal nowther ete nor drynke.

Johan Baptyst. In place where I passe wyttnes I bere,

The trewthe xal I telle wheresoevyr I go,

That Cryst, the Sone of God, is become oure fere,

Clad in oure clothynge to sofer for us wo!

I baptyȝid with myn owyn handys Cryst Jhesu ryght here,

And now he is to wyldyrnes penawns ther to do,

Informyng so alle us that Lord that hath no pere,

To do for oure trespace penawnce here also;

Of penawnce do I preche.

In wyttnes ryght be this,

That what man for his mys,

Doth penawns here, i-wys,

His sowle he dothe wel leche.

Alle men on ground that be ȝitt on lyve,

ffor ȝour grett offens loke ȝe be repentaunt;

Of alle ȝour venym synne I rede that ȝe ȝow shryve,

ffor God is ful redy mercy for to graunt.

Be contryte for ȝour trespas, and penauns do belyve,

Reconsyle ȝourself and be to God plesaunt;

With contryscion, schryffte, and penauns, the devil may ȝe dryve,

ffor fro ȝour felachep he xal not be erraunt,

ȝow for to meve.

To penauns and synne forsake,

Shryfte of mowthe loke that ȝe make,

And than the fende in helle so blake,

He xal ȝow nevyr more greve.

A tre that is bareyn and wyl here no frute,

The ownere wyl hewe it downe and cast it on the fyre;

Ryght so it be man that folwyth the fowle sute

Of the devyl of helle, and werkyth his desyre.

God wyl be vengyd on man that is bothe dum and mute,

That wyl nevyr be shrevyn, but evyr more doth delyre;

Clothe the in clennes, with vertu be indute,

And God with his grace he wyl the sone inspyre

To amendynge of thi mys.

Schryfte of mowthe may best the save,

Penauns for synne what man wyl have,

Whan that his body is leyd in grave,

His sowle xal go to blys.

Corne that is good, men kepe it ful clene;

Chaff that is sympyl is sett wul nere at nought.

So good men of levynge to God chosyn bene,

Whan synful men be lyke chaff and to helle xul be brought.

Good penauns ȝow to preche ful hertyly do I mene,

Shryfft and satysfaccion evyrmore to have in thought;

What man in good penauns and schryfte of mowthe be sene,

Of God he is welbelovyd, that alle this worlde hath wrought,

And alle thinge of nowth dede make.

Now have I tawght ȝow good penauns,

God graunt ȝow grace, at his plesauns

To have of synne delyverauns,

ffor now my leve I take!