Enslaved to Sense, to Pleasure Prone

Enslaved to sense, to pleasure prone,
Fond of created good;

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 fatal 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 sensualise his soul.

Grov’lling 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 then shall lead to Thee,
And all we taste be God!

Grace Before Meat