Corrupt nature from Adam.
Bless’d with the joy of innocence
Adam, our father, stood,
Till he debas’d his soul to sense,
And ate th’ unlawful food.
Now we are born a sensual race,
To sinful joys inclin’d;
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 ruin’d frame,
Our broken powers restore,
Inspire us with a heavenly 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.