Poetry Archives

           Holiness on the head,
Light and perfections on the breast,
      Harmonious bells below, raising the dead
To lead them unto life and rest:
           Thus are true Aarons drest.

           Profaneness in my head,
Defects and darkness in my breast,
      A noise of passions ringing me for dead
Unto a place where is no rest:
           Poor priest, thus am I drest.

           Only another head
I have, another heart and breast,
      Another music, making live, not dead,
Without whom I could have no rest:
           In him I am well drest.

           Christ is my only head,
My alone-only heart and breast,
      My only music, striking me ev’n dead,
That to the old man I may rest,
           And be in him new-drest.

           So, holy in my head,
Perfect and light in my dear breast,
      My doctrine tun’d by Christ (who is not dead,
But lives in me while I do rest),
           Come people; Aaron’s drest.