And sende ȝow helthe, bothe nyth and day,
He shylde and save ȝow from al shenschepe.
Now, Lord of grace, to the I pray,
With morny mood on kne I krepe,
Me save from synne, from tene and tray,
With hert I murne, with eye I wepe.
Lord God of peté,
Whan I sytt in my conclave,
Alle myn hert on the I have,
Gracyous God, my maydenhed save,