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Isaac Watts - Hymn 153
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The distemper, folly, and madness of sin

Sin, like a venomous disease,
Infects our vital blood;
The only balm is sovereign grace,
And the physician, God.

Our beauty and our strength are fled,
And we draw near to death;
But Christ the Lord recalls the dead
With his almighty breath.

Madness by nature reigns within,
The passions burn and rage,
Till God`s own Son, with skill divine,
The inward fire assuage.

[We lick the dust, we grasp the wind,
And solid good despise;
Such is the folly of the mind,
Till Jesus makes us wise.

We give our souls the wounds they feel,
We drink the pois`nous gall,
And rush with fury down to hell;
But Heav`n prevents the fall.]

[The man possessed among the tombs
Cuts his own flesh, and cries;
He foams and raves, till Jesus comes,
And the foul spirit flies.]
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