1 They that mourn in dungeon gloom,
Bound in iron and despair,
Sentenced to a heavier doom
Than the pangs they suffer there—
2 Foes and rebels once to God,
They disdained His high control;
Now they feel His fiery rod
Striking terrors through their soul,
3 Wrung with agony they fall
To the dust, and gazing round,
Call for help—in vain they call,
Help, nor hope, nor friend are found.
4 Then unto the Lord they cry.
He inclines a gracious ear,
Sends deliverance from on high,
Rescues them from all their fear.
5 He restores their forfeit breath,
Breaks in twain the gates of brass;
From the bands and grasp of death,
Forth to liberty they pass.
6 O that men would praise the Lord,
For His goodness to their race;
For the wonders of His word,
And the riches of His grace!
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #12997