This is the thrydde day that I ȝow tolde,
I xuld arysyn out of the cley so colde,—
Now am I here with brest ful bolde,
Therfore no more ȝe wepe.
Maria. Welcom, my Lord! welcom, my grace!
Welcome, my sone, and my solace!
I xal the wurchep in every place, —
Welcom, Lord God of myght!
Mekel sorwe in hert I leed,
Whan thou were leyd in dethis beed,