Classic Poem

205

They wring their hands, their caitiff-hands
and gnash their teeth for terrour;
They cry, they roar for anguish sore,
and gnaw their tongues for horrour.
But get away without delay,
Christ pitties not your cry:
Depart to Hell, there may you yell,
and roar Eternally.

206

That word, Depart , maugre their heart,
drives every wicked one,
With mighty pow'r, the self-same hour,
far from the Judge's Throne.
Away they're chaste by the strong blast
of his Death-threatning mouth:
They flee full fast, as if in haste,
although they be full loath.

207

As chaff that's dry, and dust doth fly
before the Northern wind:
Right so are they chased away,
and can no Refuge find.
They hasten to the Pit of Wo,
guarded by Angels stout;
Who to fulfil Christ's holy will,
attend this wicked Rout.

208

Whom having brought, as they are taught,
unto the brink of Hell,
(That dismal place far from Christ's face,
where Death and Darkness dwell:
Where Gods fierce Ire kindleth the fire,
and vengeance feeds the flame
With piles of Wood, and Brimstone Flood,
that none can quench the same,)

209

With Iron bands they bind their hands,
and cursed feet together,
And cast them all, both great and small,
into that Lake for ever.
Where day and night, without respite,
they wail, and cry, and howl
For tort'ring pain, which they sustain
in Body and in Soul.

210

For day and night, in their despight,
their torments smoak ascendeth.
Their pain and grief have no relief,
their anguish never endeth.
There must they ly, and never dy,
though dying every day:
There must they dying ever ly,
and not consume away.

211

Dy fain they would, if dy they could,
but Death will not be had:
God's direful wrath their bodies hath
for ev'r Immortal made.
They live to ly in misery,
and bear eternal wo;
And live they must whilst God is just,
that he may plague them so.

212

But who can tell the plagues of Hell,
and torments exquisite?
Who can relate their dismal state,
and terrours infinite?
Who fare the best, and feel the least,
yet feel that punishment
Whereby to nought they should be brought,
if God did not prevent.

213

The least degree of miserie
there felt's incomparable,
The lightest pain they there sustain
more than intolerable.
But God's great pow'r from hour to hour
upholds them in the fire,
That they shall not consume a jot,
nor by it's force expire.

214

But ah, the wo they undergo
(they more than all besides)
Who has the light, and knew the right,
yet would not it abide.
The sev'n-fold smart, which to their part,
and portion doth fall,
Who Christ his Grace would not imbrace,
nor hearken to his call.

215

The Amorites and Sodomites
although their plagues be sore,
Yet find some ease, compar'd to these,
who feel a great deal more.
Almighty God, whose Iron Rod,
to smite them never lins,
Doth most declare his Justice rare
in plaguing these mens sins.

216

The pain of loss their Souls doth toss,
and wond'rously distress,
To think what they have cast away
by wilful wickedness.
We might have been redeem'd from sin,
think they, and liv'd above,
Being possest of Heav'nly rest,
and joying in God's love.

217

But wo, wo, wo our Souls unto!
we would not happy be;
And therefore bear Gods Vengeance here
to all Eternitee.
Experience and woful sense
must be our painful teachers
Who n'ould believe, nor credit give,
unto our faithful Preachers.