Sin has a thousand treach’rous arts
To practise on the mind;
With flatt’ring looks she tempts our hearts,
But leaves a sting behind.
With names of virtue she deceives
The aged and the young;
And while the heedless wretch believes,
She makes his fetters strong.
She pleads for all the joys she brings,
And gives a fair pretence;
But cheats the soul of heav’nly things,
And chains it down to sense.
So on a tree divinely fair
Grew the forbidden food;
Our mother took the poison there,
And tainted all her blood.
–Isaac Watts (1674-1748)