210
is there a hell?
With beating heart and straining ear,
I wait in mingled awe and fear
For God's reply.
Was it a whisper that I heard,
Or the rustling wing of a passing bird,
Or spirit's sigh?
Or did I, for a moment's space,
Meet a lost soul face to face
In eternity?
I wait in mingled awe and fear
For God's reply.
Was it a whisper that I heard,
Or the rustling wing of a passing bird,
Or spirit's sigh?
Or did I, for a moment's space,
Meet a lost soul face to face
In eternity?
Surely the veil was rent aside,
And I heard on the "other side"
A spirit's wail:
A wail that came from some dread place
In the fathomless bounds of space,
Where the lost dwell:
Echoing through the ghostly air
Came the anguished voice of Despair—
"There is a hell!"
And I heard on the "other side"
A spirit's wail:
A wail that came from some dread place
In the fathomless bounds of space,
Where the lost dwell:
Echoing through the ghostly air
Came the anguished voice of Despair—
"There is a hell!"
"Hell made by man; its torturing fires
Kindled by his own base desires
And purpose fell;
And here, where ghosts of dead sins rise,
Here, where the worm of grief ne'er dies,
We lost souls dwell;
Bound by remorse in galling chains,
We suffer agonising pains
In our own hell."
Kindled by his own base desires
And purpose fell;
And here, where ghosts of dead sins rise,
Here, where the worm of grief ne'er dies,
We lost souls dwell;
Bound by remorse in galling chains,
We suffer agonising pains
In our own hell."
