Hymn 44 by Isaac Watts
Hell; or, The vengeance of God.
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.