When shall Emanuel's peaceful reign Commence, and end no more?
4 When, blessed Jesus, shall that peace To thy disciples given,
Fill ev'ry soul, bless ev'ry land, And make this earth like heav'n?
1 CHECK at their fountain-head, O Lord, the streams of strife, Nor let misguided man rejoice To take his brother's life.
2 Strike off the pomp and pride That deck the deeds of war, And in their gorgeous mantle hide The blood-stained conqueror.
3 To history's blazoned page
Touch the pure wand of truth, And bid its heroes stand unveiled Before the eye of youth.
4 By every fireside press
The gospel's peaceful claims, Nor let a Christian nation bless What its meek Master blames.
5 So shall the seeds of hate
Be strangled in their birth, And Peace, the angel of thy love, Rule o'er the enfranchised earth.
1 DRINKER! turn, and leave your bowl- Turn, and save your deathless soul; From your lips the poison fling; Dash away the accursed thing.
2 Husband, turn, nor let your feet Enter that accurs'd retreat. Look! your partner's tearful eye Eloquently asks you why?
3 Brother! leave the place of glee; Quick, O quickly, turn and flee! See your sister's swelling breast Deep with anxious fear distress'd. 4 Father! turn-your children's voice Bids you seek your fireside joys: Leave the revel-homeward haste, And those purer pleasures taste.
Drink a little longer.
1 AYE, drink a little longer-- A little longer still;
Let appetite grow stronger; Aye, gratify thy will. Indulge in every pleasure
That fancy can devise; Spend all thy earthly treasure In all thy heart can prize.
2 Drink to-day, to-night, to-morrow; Thy tender wife forsake; Yes, fill her heart with sorrow, And thy smiling children's break. Ne'er think of grief or sadness, Nor think of God or heaven, Till thou art seiz'd with madness, Thou to despair art driven.
3 Then, drunkard, die!-but glory Can never be thy home. And what will be thy story When laid within the tomb? O tell it not!-O let him
Sleep, now, his last long sleep. Wife, sire, and child, forget him; 'Tis folly now to weep.
1 HOW long shall virtue languish, How long shall folly reign, While many a heart with anguish Is weeping o'er the plain? How long shall dissipation
Her deadly waters pour Throughout this favored nation Her millions to devour ?
2 When shall the veil of blindness Fall from the shrine of wealth, Restoring human kindness, And industry, and health? When shall the charms so luring Of bad example cease,
The end at once securing Of temperance and peace?
3 We hail with joy unceasing The band whose pledge is given, Whose numbers are increasing Amid the smiles of heaven. Their virtues, never failing, Shall lead to brighter days, Where holiness, prevailing, Shall fill the earth with praise.
1 SEE the car of Temperance roll; Swiftly on it speeds its way. See the earth from pole to pole Bend beneath its awful sway. 2 See her banners gleaming high
O'er the earth and mighty deep. Raise your notes of triumph high, And in chains the monster keep. 3 Foes oppose and rage in vain ; Hell's unloosed its demons wild; But true friends, a mighty train, Push their conquest, firm though mild. 4 Friends of Zion, steady keep
The bright and precious prize in view, For which Jesus oft did weep, And his head was wet with dew.
5 Raise a pæan loud and long: Let it reach the skies above. Raise a thrilling, melting song In the purest strains of love.
493. C. M. Lanesborough.
1 O, TAKE the maddening bowl away- Remove the poisonous cup:
My soul is sick-its burning ray Hath drunk my spirit up.
2 Say not, "Behold its ruddy hue, O press it to thy lips; "
For 'tis more deadly than the dew That from the Upas drips.
3 Say not, "It hath a spell to soothe The soul in misery deep."
Go, ask thy conscience if the bowl Can give eternal sleep?
4 Go-I will have no more of thee, Thou bane of Adam's race; But to a heavenly fountain flee, And drink the dews of grace.
The triumph of temperance. 1 HOW sweet it is to hear the sound Of grateful thanks ascend the sky, While loud the earth doth echo round, And joyful triumph peal on high! 2 How sweet it is to hear the song That deeply tells of grace divine, Break from the lips of him who long Hath lonely knelt at Bacchus' shrine! 3 What rapture fills the aching breast, When round we cast our longing eye, To see the earth in beauty drest, To hear no more the stifled sigh!
4 The parents greet a son's return
From the path where Rum had bound him: O, how their hearts do warmly burn As they closely press around him!
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