Work For Woman

Woman, sitting at your ease, In the midst of luxuries, Bound by chains of selfishness, With no aim but 'how to dress,' Does the thought ne'er come to you Of the thing that you could do? Could, and yet do not, To crush out the liquor trade, That is making, and has made, Sin and shame, and woe and tears In our land, for years and years- Have you never thought? You will chat for hours and hours Over ribbons, silks, and flowers, But you will not talk or think Of this growing evil-drink. You will weep and smile and laugh Over trashy books of chaff, But you will not read Any truthful temperance tale. 'They are all so dry and stale- Just the same old thing,' you say As you yawn, and turn away From the truths you need. You have time for rout, and ball, Concert, theatre, and all Lectures, save on this one theme. 'Oh! these temperance lectures seem So extremely dull,' you cry, With a listless air and eye. O my friend! forsake That absorbing theme of DRESS, Drop for once your selfishness, Think of all there is to do! See the work that waits for you! Up! arouse! awake! There are men for you to save From the wretched drunkard's grave. There are feet that strayed away Into paths of sin one day. You can bring them, if you will, To the paths upon the hill. There's enough to do! There's much to do and little done, Women, sisters, every one, Lend a helping hand, nor shirk Any part of God's great work. Come! we've need of you!