1 When the great Builder arch'd the skies,
And form'd all nature with a word,
The joyful cherubs tun'd his praise,
And ev'ry bending throne ador'd.

2 High in the midst of all the throng,
Satan a tall arch-angel, sate,
Amongst the morning stars he sung,
Till sin destroy'd his heav'nly state.

3 ['Twas sin that hurl'd him from his throne.
Grov'ling in fire the rebel lies:
"How art thou sunk in darkness down,
"Son of the morning, from the skies!"

4 And thus our two first parents stood,
Till sin defil'd the happy place;
They lost their garden and their God,
And ruin'd all their unborn race.

5 [So sprung the plague from Adam's bow'r,
And spread destruction all abroad;
Sin, the curs'd name, that in one hour
Spoil'd six days' labour of a God.]

6 Tremble, my soul, and mourn for grief,
That such a foe should seize thy breast;
Fly to thy Lord for quick relief!
O! may he slay this treacherous guest.

7 Then to thy throne, victorious King,
Then to thy throne our shouts shall rise,
Thine everlasting arm we sing.
For sin, the monster, bleeds and dies.