Saint Mary, Mother Mild Lyrics

Saint Mary, mother mild,
Mater salutaris,
Fairest flower of any field,
Vere nuncuparis,
Through Jesu Christ thou wert with child,
Thou bring me of my thoughtes wild,
Potente,
That maketh me to death (to) go
Repente.
My thought is wild as is the roe,
Luto gratulante,
She worketh me full muchel woe,
Illaque favente;
But if He wille wend me fro
I ween my heart breaketh a-two,
Fervore;
I tamed am both day and night,
Dolore.
Jesu, through Thy muchel might
Omnia fecisti.
The Holy Ghost in Mary light,
Sicut voluisti,
Therefore He is yclept our Driht;
Jesu, bring my thought to Christ
Constanter,
That it be stable and not changeable,
Fraudenter.
Jesu Christ, Thou art on loft,
Digno Tu scandente,
Heaven and earth Thou havest ywrought,
Victore triumphante,
Mankind with Thy body a-bought,
Thou wouldst not him have lost for nought,
Nec dare;
And gave the blood that was so good,
Tam gnare.
Sweete lady, flower of all,
Vere consolatrix,
Thou be mine help that I ne fall,
Cunctis reparatrix.
Mildest queen and best ycorn,
Night and day thou be me forn
Precantis.
Give me grace to see thy face,
Infantis,
That I through thy sweete bene,
Tutrix orphanorum,
May leave all this worldes teen,
Solamen miserorum.
And to thee, Lady, may I take
And my sins (may) all forsake,
Volunte,
That I ne misse of thy bliss,
Poscente.