We from the husband tear the wife,
Yet don’t we lead a decent life?—
The child snatch from its mother’s breast,—
Our flesh and blood sell with the rest;—
But, sir, are not they too our own?
Take warning, then, let us alone!
Our institution!—’Tis divine,
Its influence is most benign;
Its power for good you must not blast,
The world without it were a waste: