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.