On man, in His own im­age made,
How much did God be­stow?
The whole cre­ation hom­age paid,
And owned him, lord, be­low!

He dwelt in Ed­en’s gar­den, stored
With sweets for ev­ery sense;
And there with his des­cend­ing Lord
He walked in con­fi­dence.

But O! by sin how quick­ly changed!
His hon­or for­feit­ed,
His heart, from God and truth, es­tranged,
His con­sci­ence filled with dread!

Now from his mak­er’s voice he flees,
Which was be­fore his joy:
And thinks to hide, amidst the trees,
From an all see­ing eye.

Compelled to an­swer to his name,
With stub­born­ness and pride
He cast, on God Him­self, the blame,
Nor once for mer­cy cried.

But grace, un­asked, his heart sub­dued
And all his guilt for­gave;
By faith, the pro­mised seed he viewed,
And felt His pow­er to save.

Thus we our­selves would jus­ti­fy,
Though we the law trans­gress;
Like him, una­ble to de­ny,
Unwilling to con­fess.

But when by faith the sin­ner sees
A par­don bought with blood;
Then he for­sakes his fool­ish pleas,
And glad­ly turns to God.