The distemper, folly, and madness of sin <br /> <br />Sin, like a venomous disease, <br />Infects our vital blood; <br />The only balm is sovereign grace, <br />And the physician, God. <br /> <br />Our beauty and our strength are fled, <br />And we draw near to death; <br />But Christ the Lord recalls the dead <br />With his almighty breath. <br /> <br />Madness by nature reigns within, <br />The passions burn and rage, <br />Till God's own Son, with skill divine, <br />The inward fire assuage. <br /> <br />[We lick the dust, we grasp the wind, <br />And solid good despise; <br />Such is the folly of the mind, <br />Till Jesus makes us wise. <br /> <br />We give our souls the wounds they feel, <br />We drink the pois'nous gall, <br />And rush with fury down to hell; <br />But Heav'n prevents the fall.] <br /> <br />[The man possessed among the tombs <br />Cuts his own flesh, and cries; <br />He foams and raves, till Jesus comes, <br />And the foul spirit flies.]<br /><br />Isaac Watts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hymn-153/
