OF A COUNTESSE THAT EUERY DAY HERD THRE MASSES.
I WOLDE that ye sholde wel reteyne an ensample of a good lady, a Countesse, whiche euery day wolde here thre masses. And on a tyme she wente a pylgremage, and hit happed of her Chappellayns to falle of an hors to therthe, so that he was so hurte that he myght not saye masse. The lady was at ouer a grete meschyef for to lose one of her masses, and she complayned deuoutely to god. And anone god sente to her an Angel in stede of a preest, which songe the third masse, but when he had songen and was vnreuested, it was not knowen where he bicam, for ony serche that they couthe make. Thenne thought the good lady that god hadde sente hymn to her, and thanked hym moche humbly. And this is a faire Ensample how god purueyeth to them that haue deuocion in hym and in his seruyce. But I trowe that ther ben many ladyes at this day that passe wel with lasse than thre masses, for it suffyseth them ynowe of one masse only, so lytelf loue and deuocion have they in god & in his seruyce. For in herynge of his seruyce his propre persone fonde hym. For who someuer loueth and dredeth hym, he wyl oft see hymn and here his hooly word. And in lyke wyse the contrary, for he that hath not wel set his hert to hym ward, he passeth lyghtely as many doo in thise dayes, whiche haue their herte more set on the world and on the delyte of the flesshe than on god.
