Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
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| JESUS 1 that sprang of Jesse’s root, | |
| As us hath preached the prophete, | |
| Flower and fruit both soft and soote 2 | |
| To mannis soul of savour sweet; | |
| Jesu, Thou broughtest man to boot | 5 |
| When Gabriel gan Mary greet, | |
| To fell our foemen under foot, | |
| In her Thou sit’st a seemly seat; | |
| A maiden was Thy mother meet, | |
| Of whom Thou tookest flesh for us; | 10 |
| As ye may both my balës beet, 3 | |
| So be my comfort, Christ Jesus. | |
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| Jesu, Thou art wisdom of wit, | |
| Of Thy Father full of might! | |
| Mannis soul to saven it, | 15 |
| In poor apparel Thou wert dight. | |
| Jesu, Thou were in cradle knit | |
| In weedë wrapped both day and night, | |
| In Bethlehem born, as the gospel writ, | |
| With angels’ song and heaven light. | 20 |
| Bairn y-born of a birdë 4 bright, | |
| Full courteous was Thy comely cus; 5 | |
| Through virtue of that sweetë light, | |
| So be my comfort, Christ Jesus. | |
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| Jesu, that were of yearës young, | 25 |
| Fair and fresh of hide and hue, | |
| When Thou were in thraldom throng 6 | |
| And tormented with many a Jew; | |
| When blood and water were out-wrong, | |
| For beating was Thy body blue; | 30 |
| As a clod of clay Thou were for-clong, 7 | |
| So dead in trough 8 then men Thee threw. | |
| But grace out of Thy gravë grew; | |
| Thou rose up quick, comfort to us. | |
| For her love that this counsel knew, | 35 |
| So be my comfort, Christ Jesus. | |
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| Jesu, soothfast God and Man, | |
| Two kindis knit in one persone, | |
| The wonder work that Thou began, | |
| Thou hast fulfilled in flesh and bone. | 40 |
| Out of this world wytely 9 Thou wan, | |
| Lifting up Thyself alone; | |
| For mightily Thou rose, and ran | |
| Straight unto Thy Father in throne. | |
| Now dare man make no morë moan; | 45 |
| For man it is Thou wroughtë thus, | |
| And God with man is made at one, | |
| So be my comfort, Christ Jesus. | |
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| Jesu, my sovereign Saviour, | |
| Almighty God, there be no mo; | 50 |
| Christ, be Thou my Governour, | |
| Thy faith let me not fallen fro. | |
| Jesu, my joy and my succour, | |
| In my body and soul also, | |
| God, be Thou my strongest food, | 55 |
| And wis 10 Thou me when me is woe. | |
| Lord, Thou makest friend of foe, | |
| Let me not live in languor thus, | |
| But see my sorrow, and say now “ho!” 11 | |
| And be my comfort, Christ Jesus. | 60 |
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| Jesu, to Thee I cry and greed, 12 | |
| Prince of Peace, to Thee I pray; | |
| Thou wouldest bleed for mannis need, | |
| And suffer many a fearful fray. | |
| Thou me feed in all my dread | 65 |
| With patïencë now and ay | |
| My life to lead in word and deed, | |
| As is most pleasant to Thy pay, 13 | |
| And to die well when it is my day. | |
| Jesu, that died on tree for us, | 70 |
| Let me not be the fiendis prey, | |
| But be my comfort, Christ Jesus. Amen. | |
