Hymns and Odes for Temperance Occasions IV

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.