While intemperance, as a cloud,
Hovers o'er our native land,
While its victims, in a crowd,
Round the burning altar stand,
Shall we not, as Christians, rise
To prevent the sacrifice?
While on every hand we see
Drunkenness the cause of wo,
While despair and misery
From its fatal fountain flow,
Shall we not attempt to save
Thousands from a drunkard's grave?
God of love, their aid impart,
Fill us, now, with holy zeal,
Soften every harden'd heart,
Let us for each other feel,
From each direful draught abstain,
That we may our brother gain.