How long, O God, how long
Must thy pure eyes behold
This fair world blasted by the wrong,
Man does to man for gold?
How long shall Reason be cast down,
And a fierce demon wear her crown?
The prisoner's cell, that all
Life's blessed light bedims,
The lash that cuts, the links that gall,
The poor slaves' festering limbs,-
What is this thraldom, to the chain
That binds and burns the drunkard's brain?
If, then, thy frown is felt,
O God, by those who bind
The body,-what must be the guilt
Of such as chain the mind,
Drag to the pit, and plunge it in!
O have not these 'the greater sin'?
The mother of our race,
Whose sin brought death and woe,
Yet, in her weakness, found thy grace;-
The Tempter's curse we know.
Doth he who drinks, wrong most the soul?
Or he who tempts him to the bowl?
Help us, O God, to weigh
Our deeds as in thy scales;
Nor let gold dust the balance sway;-
For good o'er gold prevails
At that dread bar where all must look
Upon the record in THY Book.