Sin Has a Thousand Treacherous Arts

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.