Verse 1
Where social virtue never comes,
Among the dead in sin he roams,
Nor finds a moment’s rest,
Tortur’d by contrary desires,
Pride, lust, and rage, he stirs the fires
The Tophet in his breast.
Verse 2
How shall he ’scape the hell within?
Th’ intolerable yoke of sin
How can he break, or bear?
O, let him run our Lord to meet,
And worship at his Saviour’s feet,
And cry for mercy there.