Worldes Blis lyrics

Worldesblis ne last no throwe,

hit wit ant wend a wey a non;

The lengur that hich hit i knowe

The lasse hic finde pris ther on,

for al hit is imeynd wyd kare,

mid sorewe ant wid uuel fare,

ant at the laste pouere ant bare

hit let mon, wen hit ginnet a gon.

al the blisse this here ant there

bi louketh at hende wop ant mon.

Al shal gon that her mon howet,

al hit shal wenden to nout;

the mon that her no god ne sowet,

wen other repen he worth bikert.

thenc, mon, for thi wil thu hauest mykte,

that thu thine gultus here arikte,

ant wrche god bi day an nikte,

ar then thu be of lisse ilakt.

thu nost wanne crist ure drikte

the asket that he hauet bitakt.

Al the blisse of thisse liue

thu shalt, mon, henden in wep —

of huse ant home ant child ant wyue.

seli mon tak there of kep!

for thu shalt al bileuen here

the eykte were of louerd thu were;

wen thu list, mon, up on bere

ant slepest a swythe druye slep

ne shaltu haben wit the no fere

butte thine werkus on an hep.

Mon, wi seestu loue ant herte

on worldes blisse that nout ne last?

wy tholestu that te so ofte smerte

for loue that is so unstedefast?

thu likest huni of thorn iwis,

that seest thi loue on worldesblis

for ful of bitternis hit is.

sore thu mikt ben of gast,

that despendes here heikte amis,

wer-thurh ben in to helle itakt.

Thenc, mon, war of crist the wroukte

ant do wey prude ant fulthe mod.

thenc wou dere he the bokte

on rode mit his swete blod;

him self he gaf for the in pris,

to buge the blis yf thu be wis.

bi thenc the, mon, ant up aris

of slovthe, an gin to worche god

wil time to worchen is,

for elles thu art witles ant wod.

Alday thu mikt undurstonde

ant ti mirour bi for the sen,

wat isto don an to wonden,

ant wat to holden ant to flen;

for alday thu sigst wid thin egven

wou this world went ant wou men deiegt.

that wite wel, that thu shalt dreigen

det, al so an other det.

ne helput nout ther non to ligen,

ne may no mon bu det ageyn.

Ne wort ne god ther unforgulde,

ne non uuel ne worth unboukt;

wanne thu list, mon, undur molde

thu shalt hauen astu hauest wrokt.

bi thenc the wel for thi, hic rede,

ant clanse the of thine misdede,

that he the helpe at thine nede,

that so dure hus haued iboukt,

ant to heuene blisse lede

that euere lest ant failet nout.

• Artist:Owain Phyfe