As sterres in hevyn byn many and fele, So xal thi seed encrese and growe; Thou xalt ovyrcome, in welthe and wele, Alle thi fomen reknyd be rowe. As sond in the se doth ebbe and flowe, Hath cheselys many unnumerabylle, So xal thi sede, thou mayst me trowe, Encres and be evyr prophytabylle. ffor to my speche thou dedyst obeye, Thyn enmyes portes thou shalt possede; And alle men on erthe, as I the seye, Thei xal be blyssed in thi sede. Almyghty God thus the wylle mede, ffor that good wylle that thou ast done, Therfore thank God, in word and dede, Bothe thou thiself, and Ysaac thi sone. _Abraham._ A! my lord God to wurchep on kne now I falle! I thank the, Lord, of thi mercy! Now, my swete childe, to God thou kalle, And thank we that Lord now hertyly. _Isaac._ With lowly hert to God I crye,— I am his servvant bothe day and nyght! I thank the, Lord, in hevyn so hyȝe, With hert, with thought, with mayn, with myght! _Abraham._ Gramercy, Lord, and kyng of grace! Gramercy, Lord over lordys alle! Now my joye returnyth his trace, I thank the, Lorde, in hevyn thin halle. _Isaac._ Ovyr alle kynges crownyd kyng, I the kalle! At thi byddyng to dye with knyff, I was fful buxum evyn as thi thralle;— Lord, now I thank the, thou grauntyst me lyff. _Abraham._ Now we have wurchepyd oure blyssyd lorde, On grounde knelyng upon oure kne; Now lete us tweyn, sone, ben of on acorde, And goo walke hom into oure countré. _Ysaac._ ffadyr, as ȝe wylle, so xal it be, I am redy with ȝow to gon; I xal ȝow folwe with hert fulle fre; Alle that ȝe bydde me, sone xal be don. _Abraham._ Now, God alle thyng of nowth that made, Evyr wurcheppyd he be on watyr and londe! His gret honowre may nevyr more fade, In felde nor town, se nor on sonde! As althyng, Lord, thou hast in honde, So save us alle, wher so we be,— Whethyr we syttyn, walk, or stonde, Evyr on thin handwerke thou have pyté! _Explicit._ VI. MOSES AND THE TWO TABLES. _Introitus Moyses._ He that made alle thynge of nought, Hevyn and erthe, bothe sunne and mone, Save alle that his hand hath wrought, Allemyghty God in hevyn trone! I am Moyses that make this bone, I pray the, Lord God, with alle my mende, To us inclyne thi mercy sone, Thi gracyous lordchep lete us fynde. The to plesyn in alle degré, Gracyous God and Lord ovyr alle, Thou graunte us grace, wher so we be, And save us sownd fro synfulle falle. Thy wylle to werke to us thi thralle, Enforme and teche us all thi plesans, In purenesse put us that nevyr not falle, And grounde us in grace ffrom alle grevauns. _Hic Moyses videns rubrum ardentem admirande dicit_,