Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/73

 Angelus. Abraham! Abraham! thou fadyr fre.

Abraham. I am here redy, what is ȝour wylle?

Angelus. Extende thin hand in no degré, I bydde thou hym not kylle! Here do I se by ryght good skylle, Allemyghty God that thou dost drede. For thou sparyst nat thi sone to spylle,— God wylle aqwhyte the welle thi mede.

Abraham. I thank my God in hevyn above, And hym honowre for this grett grace! And that my Lord me thus doth prove, I wylle hym wurchep in every place. My childys lyff is my solace, I thank myn God evyr for his lyff, In sacrifice here or I hens pace, I sle this shepe with this same knyff.

Now this shepe is deed and slayn, With this fyre it xal be brent; Of Isaac my sone I am ful fayn, That my swete childe xal not be shent. This place I name, with good entent, The hille of Godys vesytacion: ffor hedyr God hath to us sent His comforte, aftyr grett trybulacion.

Angelus. Herke, Abraham, and take good heyd! By hymself God hath thus sworne, ffor that thou woldyst a done this dede, He wylle the blysse bothe evyn and morne. ffor thi dere childe thou woldyst have lorn, At Goddys byddyng, as I the telle; God hath sent the word beforn, Thi seed xal multyplye, wher so thou duelle.