I have barely recovered from the pains of my illness, and I rush to you, the guardian of my healing. For the tongue of a priest meditating on the Lord raises up the sick. So do the greater thing in your priestly ministry, and release the great burden of my sins when you take hold of the Sacrifice of Resurrection. Your concerns matter to me whether I am awake or asleep, and you are like a good plectrum to me, making a well-tuned lyre dwell within my soul, because through your many letters you have trained my soul in knowledge. But, most reverend friend, do not stop both praying and interceding for me when you draw down the Word by your word, when with a bloodless cutting you divide the Body and Blood of the Lord, using your voice as the blade.
Scarcely yet delivered from the pains of my illness, I hasten to you, the guardian of my cure. For the tongue of a priest meditating of the Lord raises the sick. Do then the greater thing in your priestly ministration, and loose the great mass of my sins when you lay hold of the Sacrifice of Resurrection. For your affairs are a care to me waking or sleeping, and you are to me a good plectrum, and have made a well-tuned lyre to dwell within my soul, because by your numerous letters you have trained my soul to science. But, most reverend friend, cease not both to pray and to plead for me when you draw down the Word by your word, when with a bloodless cutting you sever the Body and Blood of the Lord, using your voice for the glaive.