Sin has a thousand treacherous arts
To practice on the mind;
With flattering looks she tempts our hearts,
But leaves a sting behind.

With names of virtue she deceives
The agèd and the young;
And while the heedless wretch believes,
She makes his fetters strong.

She pleads for all the joys she brings,
And gives a fair pretense;
But cheats the soul of heav’nly things,
And chains it down to sense.

So on a tree divinely fair
Grew the forbidden food;
Our mother took the poison there
And tainted all her blood.