From the darkness you created
and formed me from the clay.
You made me king of all you’d done,
though I hadn’t worked a day.

Your love was overwhelming,
but I was not content.
I fell asleep and you to work.
A rib was all I lent.

Oh what a gift that you had giv’n!
A partner made for me.
Paradise with one condition,
don’t touch the dying tree.

Then the serpent whispered softly,
that death does not await.
He told the lie that he believed,
“Godhood could be your fate.”

So scorning all that you had done,
we chose our own conceit.
What great shame and fear we had felt
at the sound of your feet!

Then we told of our fatal act
in words of wounded pride,
on your faultless back set the blame.
No sin did we confide.

You cursed us all for our hubris;
we walked with heads hung low,
across ground cursed from Eden East.
God, I wish I didn’t know.

But though my sin had sown my death
and you the one I scorned,
you walked beside me all the way
to comfort while I mourned.