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Whos brighte bemes the cloudes may not hyde;
O way of lyf to hem that go or ryde,
Haven from tempest, surest up to ryve,
On me have mercy, for thy joyes fyve!
O rightful rule, O rote of holinesse,
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And lightsom lyne of pitè for to playne,
Original ginning of grace and al goodnesse,
Clenest conduit of vertue soverayne,