God's Blessing Implored on the Temperance Cause.
1 For all who love thee and thy cause, O Lord, thy blessing we implore; Who fear thy name, obey thy laws, From this to earth's remotest shore.
2 O grant, that, freed from low desire, And filled with joy, and love, and fear, Each breast may glow with holy fire, While seeking heaven, to serve thee here.
3 Pity, O God, the heedless wretch, Who staggers to a dreadful grave; Thy arm of love around him stretch, And show that thou art strong to save.
4 Breathe upon those who scorn our cause, Thy cause, O Lord, for thou hast blest; Show them he honors most thy laws Who loves his God and neighbor best.
1 There sprang a tree of deadly name: Its poisonous breath, its baleful dew Scorched the green earth like lava-flame, And every plant of mercy slew.
2 From clime to clime its branches spread Their fearful fruits of sin and woe; The prince of darkness loved its shade, And toiled its fiery seeds to sow.
3 Faith poured her prayer at midnight hour; The hand of zeal at noon-day wrought; An armor of celestial power The children of the cross besought.
4 Behold the axe its pride doth wound; Through its cleft boughs the sun doth shine; Its blasted blossoms strew the ground: Give glory to the arm divine.
5 And still Jehovah's aid implore, From isle to isle, from sea to sea, From peopled earth's remotest shore, To root that deadly Upas Tree.
1 'Mid homes and shrines forsaken Of joy and peace divine, Faint hearts new strength have taken, A light is seen to shine! Its beaming revelations Are shed in mercy far; A guide to all the nations-- The glorious Temperance star!
2 Hushed be that wail of sadness, Life, life has come again; Awake the song of gladness, Swell high the choral strain! The lost returns from straying In sin's destructive way; That curse is turned to praying, That night to blissful day!
3 God of this day! Our Father! In humble praise to thee, Within these walls we gather-- The spared, the blest, the free; To hail thy grace far-sounding-- Our Temple dedicate To hope and life abounding In Man regenerate!
4 Rest thou within it ever, As o'er the ark of old; And here, O may we never In our great strife wax cold. Nerve every arm and spirit For each successful blow, Till Temperance shall inherit All temples here below!