Backward with humble shame we look
    On our original;
    How is our nature dash'd and broke
    In our first father's fall!

    To all that's good, averse and blind,
    But prone to all that's ill,
    What dreadful darkness veils our mind!
    How obstinate our will!

    [Conceiv'd in sin (O wretched state!)
    Before we draw our breath,
    The first young pulse begins to beat
    Iniquity and death.

    How strong in our degenerate blood,
    The old corruption reigns,
    And, mingling with the crooked flood,
    Wanders through all our veins!]

    [Wild and unwholesome as the root
    Will all the branches be;
    How can we hope for living fruit
    From such a deadly tree?

    What mortal power from things unclean
    Can pure productions bring?
    Who can command a vital stream
    From an infected spring?]

    Yet, mighty God, thy wondrous love
    Can make our nature clean,
    While Christ and grace prevail above
    The tempter, death, and sin.

    The second Adam shall restore
    The ruins of the first,
    Hosanna to that sovereign power
    That new-creates our dust.
                                                   Isaac Watts