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.