The distemper, folly, and madness of sin.
Sin like a venomous disease
Infects our vital blood;
The only balm is sovereign grace,
And the physician, God.
Our beauty and our strength are fled,
And we draw near to death;
But Christ the Lord recalls the dead
With his almighty breath.
Madness by nature reigns within,
The passions burn and rage;
Till God’s own Son with skill divine
The inward fire assuage.
[We lick the dust, we grasp the wind,
And solid good despise;
Such is the folly of the mind,
Till Jesus makes us wise.
We give our souls the wounds they feel,
We drink the poisonous gall,
And rush with fury down to hell;
But heaven prevents the fall.]
[The man possess’d amongst the tombs,
Cuts his own flesh and cries;
He foams, and raves, till Jesus comes,
And the foul spirit flies.]