C. M. Corrupt nature from Adam. 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. |