1 Hell! 'tis a word of dreadful sound;
It chills the heart and shocks the ear;
It spreads a sickly damp around,
And makes the guilty quake with fear.
2 Far from the utmost verge of day,
Its frightful, gloomy region lies;
Fierce flames amidst the darkness play,
And thick sulphureous vapours rise.
3 Conscience, the never dying worm,
With constant torture gnaws the heart,
And wo and wrath, in ev'ry form,
Inflame the wounds, increase the smart.
4 The wretches rave, o'erwhelm'd with wo,
And bite their everlasting chains;
But with their rage their torments grow,
Resentment but augments their pains.
5 Sad world indeed! what heart can bear,
Hopeless, in all these pains to lie;
Rack'd with vexation, grief, despair,
And ever dying, never die!
6 "Lord, save a guilty soul from hell,
Who seeks thy pard'ning, cleansing blood;
O let me in thy kingdom dwell,
To praise my Saviour and my God."
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Hell! 'tis a word of dreadful sound |
Meter: | L. M. |
Publication Date: | 1828 |
Scripture: | |
Topic: | Eternity: Happiness of the righteous; Hell |