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289,290 hymns. [par: <
289.
The Misery of the Wicked.
1 XT ELL ! ’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.
In frightful gloom the 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 woe and wrath, in ev’ry form,
Enflame the' wounds, increase the smart.
4 Fierce fiends insulting stand around,
Upbraid with guilt, and feed the flames:
From ev’ry quarter groans resound.
Despairing shrieks and hideous screams.
5 Sad world of woe ! what heart can bear.
Hopeless in all these pangs to lie !
Rack’d with vexation, grief, despair.
And ever dying, ne’er to die ?
6 Lord, that I may these horrors shun.
Now let me mine offences mourn :
Seek pardon thro’ thy bleeding Son,
And to my God repenting turn.
290.
Hell,, the Sinner's own Place. Acts i. 25.
1 T ORD, when I read the traitor’s doom.
To “ his own place consign’d,”
What holy fear, and humble hope
Alternate fill my mind!
2 Traitor to thee I too have been.
But sav’d by matchless grace,