It lytenyth therkenesse and puttyth develys away.
The song of Psalmus is Goddys dete,
Synne is put awey therby;
It lernyth a man vertuys ful to be,
It feryth mannys herte gostly.
Who that it usyth customably,
It claryfieth the herte, and charyté makyth cowthe,
He may not ffaylen of Goddys mercy,
That hath the preysenge of God evyr in his mowthe.
O holy Psalmys! O holy book!