I hate the tempt­er and his charms,
I hate his flat­ter­ing breath;
The ser­pent takes a thou­sand forms
To cheat our souls to death.

He feeds our hope with airy dreams
Or kills with slav­ish fear;
And holds us still in wide ex­tremes,
Presumption or des­pair.

Now he per­suades, How ea­sy ’tis
To walk the road to Heav’n;
Anon he swells our sins, and cries,
They can­not be for­giv’n.

He bids young sin­ners, Yet for­bear
To think of God, or death;
For pray­er and de­vo­tion are
But me­lan­cho­ly breath.

He tells the ag­èd, they must die,
And ’tis too late to pray;
In vain for mer­cy now they cry,
For they have lost their day.

Thus he sup­ports his cru­el throne
By mis­chief and deceit,
And drags the sons of Ad­am down
To dark­ness and the pit.

Almighty God, cut short his pow­er;
Let him in dark­ness dwell;
And that he vex the earth no more,
Confine him down to hell.