Blest with the joys of innocence
Adam our father stood,
Till he debased his soul to sense,
And ate th' unlawful food.
Now we are born a sensual race,
To sinful joys inclined;
Reason has lost its native place,
And flesh enslaves the mind.
While flesh, and sense, and passion reigns,
Sin is the sweetest good;
We fancy music in our chains,
And so forget the load.
Great God! renew our ruined frame,
Our broken powers restore,
Inspire us with a heav'nly flame,
And flesh shall reign no more.
Eternal Spirit! write thy law
Upon our inward parts,
And let the second Adam draw
His image on our hearts.
The Psalms and Hymns of Isaac Watts