O Lord, O Lord, how vain are all our frail delights
How mix'd with sour the sweet of our desire
How subject oft to Fortune's subtle slights
How soon consum'd like snow against the fire
Sith in this life our pleasures all be vain
O Lord, O Lord, grant me that I may them disdain
Sith in this life our pleasures all be vain
O Lord, O Lord, grant me that I may them disdain

How fair, how fair in show where need doth force to wish
How much they loathe when heart hath them at will
How things possess'd do seem not worth a rish (rush)
Where greedy minds for more do covet still
Sith in this life our pleasures all be vain
O Lord, O Lord, grant me that I may them disdain
Sith in this life our pleasures all be vain
O Lord, O Lord, grant me that I may them disdain

What prince, what prince so great as doth not seem to want
What man so rich but still doth covet more
To whom so large was ever Fortune's grant
As for to have a quiet mind in store
Sith in this life our pleasures all be vain
O Lord, O Lord, grant me that I may them disdain
Sith in this life our pleasures all be vain
O Lord, O Lord, grant me that I may them disdain