1

AND HYMNS.

3

XXII.

Original Sm. Pfal. li. 5.

WITH humble thame we meditate

On our original;

How far are we degenerate By our firit father's fall!

2 To all that's good averfe and blind, But prone to all that's ill; What dreadful darknefs vails our mind! How obftinate our will!

Conceiv'd in fin( O wretched ftate!) Before, we draw our breath; The firft young pulfe begins to beat Iniquity and death.

4

How ftrong in our degen'rate blood The old corruption reigns,

And, mingling with the crooked flood, Wanders thro' all our veins!

5

Wild and unwholefome as the root, Will all the branches be; How can we hope for living fruit From fuch a deadly tree?

Ca