Mervele Not, Josep, On Mary Mylde Lyrics

Mervele noot, Josep, on Mary mylde;
Forsake hyr not, they she be with chylde.


I, Josep, wonder how this may be,
That Mary wex gret when y and she
Ever have levyd in chastite;
If she be with chylde, hit ys not by me.
Mervelle not, Joseph.

The holy gost, with mercifulle disstens,
In here hathe entryd wythowte offens,
God and man conceyved by hys presens,
And she virgyn pure wythowte violens.
Mervelle not, Joseph.

What the angelle of God to me dothe say,
I, Joseph, muste and wille umble obay,
Ellys prively y wolde have stole a-way,
But now wille y serve here tille that y day.
Mervelle not, Josep.

Josep, thow shalt here mayde and moder fynde,
Here sone redemptor of alle mankynde,
Thy fore-faderes of paynes to unbynde;
Therefor must not this mater in thy mynde.
Mervelle not.