Isaac Watts · 658 of 724

Hymn 150

Sin has a thousand treach'rous arts To practise on the mind; With flatt'ring looks she tempts our hearts, But leaves a sting behind.

With names of virtue she deceives The aged 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 pretence; 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.