Backward with humble shame we look

On our original;

How is our nature dashed and broke

In our first father's fall!

To all that's good averse and blind,

But prone to all that's ill

What dreadful darkness veils our mind!

How obstinate our will!

[Conceived in sin, O wretched state!

Before we draw our breath

The first young pulse begins to beat

Iniquity and death.

How strong in our degen'rate blood

The old corruption reigns,

And, mingling with the crooked flood,

Wanders through all our veins.]

[Wild and unwholesome as the root

Will all the branches be;

How can we hope for living fruit

From such a deadly tree?

What mortal power from things unclean

Can pure productions bring?

Who can command a vital stream

From an infected spring?]

Yet, mighty God! thy wondrous love

Can make our nature clean,

While Christ and grace prevail above

The tempter, death, and sin.

The second Adam shall restore

The ruins of the first;

Hosannah to that sovereign power

That new-creates our dust!