John Wesley Harding – Letras de Enslaved To Sense, To Pleasure Prone
1 ENSLAVED to sense, to pleasure prone,
Fond of created good,
Father, our helplessness we own,
And trembling taste our food.
2 Trembling we taste; for, ah! no more
To thee the creatures lead;
Changed, they exert a baneful power,
And poison while they feed.
3 Cursed for the sake of wretched man,
They now engross him whole;
With pleasing force on earth detain,
And sensualize his soul.
4 Grovelling on earth we still must lie,
Till Christ the curse repeal;
Till Christ, descending from on high,
Infected nature heal.
5 Come then, our heavenly Adam, come,
Thy healing influence give,
Hallow our food, reverse our doom,
And bid us eat and live!
6 The bondage of corruption break,
For this our spirits groan;
Thy only will we fain would seek,
O save us from our own!
7 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.
8 Earth then a scale to heaven shall be,
Sense shall point out the road,
The creatures all shall lead to thee,
And all we taste be God.
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