When senses, which Thy soldiers are

  When senses, which Thy soldiers are, 
We arm against Thee, and they fight for sin ; 
  When want, sent but to tame, doth war, 
And work despair a breach to enter in ; 
              When plenty, God’s image, and seal, 
              Makes us idolatrous, 
And love it, not him, whom it should reveal ; 
When we are moved to seem religious 
Only to vent wit ; Lord, deliver us.