Here shall sweep the victor's sword,
So that to deep hollows, will evils fall,
Into the swart flame,
Into the camp of foes,
The shoal of the wicked,
Accursed to perdition,
Within the house of torment,
The death-hall of the devil!

Not the earth's remembrance,
Shall they seek after?
Will not emerge from sin,
Where they, stained with crimes,
Bound in flame, shall suffer,
Shall be to them sin-vengeance,
That is eternal death!

That hot gulph may not, from the race of men,
In all eternity, burn up sin, throughout all time,
Stain the soul & feedeth the dreary,
Hold spirits in darkness!

Flames scorch them with its ancient might,
With the frost of terror,
And with fierce worms
May it torment many!

So that we may judge and never declare,
That the soul's guardian,
Life's wisdom hath lost,
Who now heedeth not,
Whether his spirit be happy or sad,
Where he shall for ever,
After death, sojourn!