Enslaved to Sense, to Pleasure Prone

Enslaved to sense

to plea­sure prone

Fond of cre­at­ed good

Father

our help­less­ness we own

And trem­bling taste our food.

Trembling we taste; for

ah! no more

To Thee the crea­tures lead;

Changed

they ex­ert a bane­ful pow­er

And poi­son while they feed.

Cursed for the sake of wretch­ed man

They now en­gross him whole;

With pleas­ing force on earth de­tain

And sen­su­al­ize his soul.

Groveling on earth we still must lie

Till Christ the curse re­peal;

Till Christ

des­cend­ing from on high

Infected na­ture heal.

Come then

our heav­en­ly Ad­am

come

Thy heal­ing in­flu­ence give

Hallow our food

rev­erse our doom

And bid us eat and live!

The bond­age of cor­rup­tion break!

For this our spir­its groan;

Thy on­ly will we fain would seek

O

save us from our own!

Turn the full stream of na­ture’s tide:

Let all our act­ions tend

To Thee

their source; Thy love the guide

Thy glo­ry be the end.

Earth then a scale to Heav­en shall be

Sense shall point out the road

The crea­tures all shall lead to Thee

And all we taste be God.