Whose sweetness Heaven likes so well,
10It stoops each morn to take a smell.
Then I'll fetch from the Phœnix' nest
The richest spices and the best,
Precious ointments I will make;
Holy Myrrh and aloes take,
Yea, costly Spikenard in whose smell
The sweetness of all odours dwell.
I'll get a box to keep it in,
Pure as his alabaster skin: