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.