How sweet was the garden, fertile and fair,
the first and best home God gave to our care,
a paradise lavished on creatures of clay;
yet we were not willing to follow God's way.
We freely could eat from all but one tree
(forbidden, perhaps, lest gods we might be?),
but tasting, we grew not divine after all:
the fruit in our mouth turned from nectar to gall.
From dark, bitter fruit came forth a bright seed,
for God did not turn from us in our need:
the Love that first formed us embraces us still
and woos us from wand'ring to follow God's will.