 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE DOOM OF HELL.
'Tis not the searching fire, the worm that preys,
Which burn and gnaw and never never die,
Nor the unheard and the unanswered cry,
Nor cruel fear that doth not kill yet slays;
Which burn and gnaw and never never die,
Nor the unheard and the unanswered cry,
Nor cruel fear that doth not kill yet slays;
But though beholding every good go by,
And all the grace of all the summer days,
To know them not and let their blessings fly,
Beyond the reach of any prayer or praise.
And all the grace of all the summer days,
To know them not and let their blessings fly,
Beyond the reach of any prayer or praise.
To find no beauty, nor to feel the love
That dwells in bosoms like a brooding dove,
And gathers every wound beneath its wings;
That dwells in bosoms like a brooding dove,
And gathers every wound beneath its wings;
This is the doom that hell its inmates brings,
They see no windows in the heaven above,
Nor hear its voice when Mercy to them sings.
They see no windows in the heaven above,
Nor hear its voice when Mercy to them sings.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |