Tidinges, tidinges that be true

Tidinges, tidinges that be true,
Sorowe is paste and joye dothe renue.

Whereas Adam causéd be sinne
Oure nature thus to be mortall,
A maiden sone dothe nowe begin
For to repaire us from that fall.
And that is true;
The name of him is Criste Jesu.

Sume of oure kinde hathe hadd suche grase
That sin his birthe they did him se
Bothe sonne and mother fase to fase
In the chefe cité calde Jure.
And that is true;
Bothe kinges and schepardes they it knue.

The prophettes thereof ware nothing dismaide,
Of that tidinges before that they hadde tolde;
For nowe it is full righte as they saide,
A clené maide hathe borne a king in folde.
And that is true;
For he is borne to ware the purpull hue.