And we bring our sister, moaning
Over blighted hope and home;
Robbed of all life's best possessions
By the ruthless spoiler—Rum,
To her rest in Thy compassion,
Bid the heavy-laden "Come."
And we pray, O God of Nations,
That thine outstretched arm of might,
May rebuke this prowling evil,
May drive back the powers of night,
And preserve us Home and Country
Overruled by Love and Right.
[A COLLECTION SONG]
FOR THE LOYAL TEMPERANCE LEGION
Kind friends, we thank you, one and all,
For giving such attention,
While we've arraigned Old Alcohol,
And of his faults made mention.
And if you'd like to see him now
Put "in a pretty pickle,"
Just lend a hand and help us on
By giving us a nickel.
He stalks the earth from east to west,
A deal of mischief doing;
But we are "on the war-path" now,
Old Alcohol pursuing.
So if you'd like to see him caught
And punished for his crime, sir,
Just lend a hand and help us on
By tossing us a dime, sir.
He robs our homes of peace and joy;
He fills the land with sighing;
Sets snares and pitfalls for our feet,
(He'd better be a-dying.)
So if you think he should be slain,
As we believe he'd or'ter,
Just lend a hand and help us on
By handing out a quarter.
He boasts himself a King—by law
And license well protected;
But now "the children are a-field"
We'll have him soon ejected.
So if you'd see us tackle him,
And take him by the collar,
Just lend a hand and help us on
By dropping in a dollar.