Classic Poem

“Now bliss betide thee, noble sir,”
said she, so fair of form and face,
“and welcome here to bide and walk,
for dear to me is now thy speech
Masterful mood and mighty pride,
I tell thee, are bitterly hated here;
my Master loveth not to blame,
for meek are all that dwell Him nigh
And when in His place appear thou must,
in humbleness be deep devout;
my Lord the Lamb such cheer aye loveth;
He is the ground of all my bliss.