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HYMN 44

L. M.

Hell; or, The vengeance of God.

433

With holy fear and humble song,

The dreadful God our souls adore;

Rev'rence and awe become the tongue

That speaks the terrors of his power.

Far in the deep where darkness dwells,

The land of horror and despair,

Justice has built a dismal hell,

And laid her stores of vengeance there.

[Eternal plagues, and heavy chains,

Tormenting racks, and fiery coals,

And darts t' inflict immortal pains,

Dyed in the blood of damned souls.]

[There Satan, the first sinner, lies,

And roars, and bites his iron bands;

In vain the rebel strives to rise,

Crushed with the weight of both thy hands.]

There guilty ghosts of Adam's race

Shriek out, and howl beneath thy rod

Once they could scorn a Savior's grace,

But they incensed a dreadful God.

Tremble, my soul, and kiss the Son;

Sinners, obey the Savior's call;

Else your damnation hastens on,

And hell gapes wide to wait your fall.

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