Oh, who that has looked on a scene so endearing, For lucre would ruin a prospect so cheering, And blight the fond hope of the sweet Rose of And lure the freed soul to his fetters again! [Erin, 180. L. M. WHITTIER. 1 TAKE back the bowl! take back the bowl! Reserve it for polluted lips; I will not bow, a tameless soul, 2 Aye, take it back; let others bring 3 An upright heart-a guiltless brow- I will not break in madness now, 4 The keenest pangs that grief can send 1 Look not upon the sparkling wine, Stay not for pleasure when she fills Her tempting beaker up; WILLIS. Though clear its depths, and rich its glow, 2 They say 'tis pleasant on the lip, They say it stirs the sluggish blood, 3 Then turn the burning cup aside, And spill the purple wine; Take not its madness to thy lip Let not its curse be thine : 'Tis red and rich, but grief and woe 1 HOSANNAS, Lord, to thee we sing, 2 Thou wilt not break the bruised reed, 3 Spare, Lord, the thoughtless, guide the blind, 4 With nature's draught your goblets fill, 183. P. M. Jeremiah, 13: 12—14. SARGENT. 1 WHEN Israel's God in his anger had spoken, The prophet prefigured the curse that he will'd: It was not that life's golden bowl should be broken, But every bottle with wine should be filled. 2 Avert, God of mercy, that sorrow and sadness, That broke the fond hearts of Jerusalem then; Permit not the spirit of murder and madness To move with the form and the features of men. 3 Oh, let us not torture the treasures of heaven, To find where the secret of misery lies; The stream, as it ripples, the rock that is riven, The pure draught of nature for mortals supplies. 4 The bonds of the bacchanal hence let us sever; The draught that bewilders the reason, resign; The type of the prophet be cherished forever :God's vials of wrath were their bottles of wine! 1 O, TREAT the drunkard kindly, Say not, before his presence, Though by intemp'rance shattered- 2 Speak to the drunkard kindly, He needs to save him now; 3 Speak to the drunkard kindly, 4 O treat the drunkard kindly, 1 HARK, hark, the sweet music that sounds thro' And thrills in the ears of us all; [the land, As louder and louder each cold water band, Responds to the true temp'rance call. 2 Lo! thousands spring up from each valley and And seizing the soul-stirring strain, [hill. Send back the blest challenge with hearty good From hill-top to valley again. [will, 3 And thus may the strains of the cold-water song Refresh us while lasts the glad day; And night, in its stillness, the echo prolong, 4 While hope, with her warm light, each beaming 186. S. M. M. W. HALE. 1 PRAISE for the glorious light, Which crowns this joyous day; Whose beams dispel the shades of night, 2 Praise for the mighty band, 3 Ours is no conquest gained Nor hath the flowing life-blood stained 4 But the strong might of love, And truth's all-pleading voice, 5 Lord! upward to thy throne Th' imploring voice we raise; |