And in oure lyknes God now clad is,
Mankend to save that was forlorn.
His modyr a mayde as sche was beforne,
Natt fowle pollutyd, as other women be;
But fayr and fresche, as rose on thorn,
Lely wyte clene with pure virginyté.
Of this blyssyd babe my leve now do I take,
And also of ȝow, hyȝ modyr of blysse!
Of this grett meracle more knowlege to make,
I xal go telle it in iche place i-wys.