So fresh that come in fasts divine!
Nostrils, your careless breath that spend
Upon the stir and keep of pride,
What relish shall the censers send
Along the sanctuary side!
O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet
That want the yield of plushy sward,
But you shall walk the golden street
And you unhouse and house the Lord.
And, Poverty, be thou the bride
And now the marriage feast begun,
And lily-coloured clothes provide
Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun.
“Spouse” refers to the Lord Jesus Christ, whose spiritual marriage to the Jesuit priesthood was a stand-in for the traditional marriage between a man and a woman. 
 Ending this poem on the image of “lily-coloured clothes” brings us back to the title: “The Habit of Perfection”. While suggesting that Christ bestows the Habit (as in cowl, not rote behavior) effortlessly (‘not laboured-at nor spun’), the poet also spends the entire poem laboring over his body parts in order to earn the  habit  (learned behavior) of perfection. So, you must learn the habit to earn the Habit. 
 
 Is it worth it? That depends on how you read the last stanza. Are a marriage feast and lily-coloured clothes worth the painful denial of one’s own senses and every pleasure in life? I guess it depends on who you’re getting married to. For this poet, it was the Heavenly Father. For many of us today, it sounds crazy to give up the good things in life for that gibberish…all the same, it makes you wonder, what would it feel like, to care about something that much?