And then to him I'll nimbly fly
20Before one sickly minute die.
This box I'll break, and on his head
This precious ointment will I spread,
Till ev'ry lock and ev'ry hair
For sweetness with his breath compare:
But sure the odour of his skin
Smells sweeter than the spice I bring.
Then with bended knee I'll greet
His holy and belovéd feet;