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.

Far from the ut­most verge of day,
Its fright­ful, gloomy re­gion lies;
Fierce flames amidst the dark­ness play,
And thick sul­fur­ous va­pors rise.

Conscience, the ne­ver-dy­ing worm,
With con­stant tor­ture gnaws the heart,
And woe and wrath, in ev­ery form,
Inflame the wounds, in­crease the smart.

The wretch­es rave, o’er­whelmed with woe,
And bite their ev­er­last­ing chains;
But with their rage their tor­ments grow,
Resentment but aug­ments their pains.

Sad world in­deed! what heart can bear,
Hopeless, in all these pains to lie;
Racked with vex­ation, grief, des­pair,
And ev­er dy­ing, ne­ver die!

Lord, save a guil­ty soul from hell,
Who seeks Thy par­don­ing, cleans­ing blood;
O let me in Thy king­dom dwell,
To praise my Sav­ior and my God.