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.