They That Mourn in Dungeon Gloom

They that mourn in dun­geon gloom

Bound in ir­on and des­pair

Sentenced to a hea­vi­er doom

Than the pangs they suf­fer there—

Foes and re­bels once to God

They dis­dained His high con­trol;

Now they feel His fie­ry rod

Striking ter­rors through their soul

Wrung with ago­ny they fall

To the dust

and gaz­ing round

Call for help—in vain they call

Help

nor hope

nor friend are found.

Then un­to the Lord they cry

He in­clines a gra­cious ear

Sends de­liv­er­ance from on high

Rescues them from all their fear.

He res­tores their for­feit breath

Breaks in twain the gates of brass;

From the bands and grasp of death

Forth to li­ber­ty they pass.

O that men would praise the Lord

For His good­ness to their race;

For the won­ders of His word

And the rich­es of His grace!