To make us strong and glad.

We love the clear Cold Water Springs, &c.

4 I pledge to thee this hand of mine,
In faith and friendship strong:
And fellow-soldiers we will join
The chorus of our song.

We love the clear Cold Water Springs, &c.

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AIR-" Araby's Daughter."

HARK! hark ye, O listen to the sorrow and weep

ing,

Which rise from the hovel where misery reigns; To the howl of the winds a wild harmony keeping, Which chills the warm life-blood that speeds thro' our veins!

Sad, sad is the story those accents are telling,

Like the wail of the dying it pierces the air; Oh, what has so blasted that comfortless dwelling? The monster intemperance is rioting there!

2 The wife, worse than widowed, forlorn and heartbroken,

While hunger and want make her little ones cry, All trembling and pale, hears her terrible token Of anguish, the steps of her husband are nigh! Those sounds she once caught with unspeakable gladness,

While lit with affection her eye brightly shone, Now sink on her bosom, o'er burdened with sad

ness,

Like the funeral knell, or the dirge's low moan!

3 He comes! see, he comes! but no fond salutation, Breaks forth from his lips which once murmured of love;

Those eyes once accustomed to smile approbation, Look dark as the storm-cloud which mutters

above!

With oaths and reproaches he vents his displeasure, And smites the frail form he has vowed to pro

tect;

Her tears and entreaties avail in no measure,

He treats them with scorn, or with cruel neglect.

4 His babes who once crowded around for his bless

ing,

And sat gaily prattling for joy on his knee; Familiar with blows in the place of caressing, Away from their father instinctively flee ! Oh! the withering curse and the ruin appalling, Which Alcohol wreaks on a suffering world! Let the people's rebuke like hot thunderbolts falling, Shower fierce on the fiend, till from earth he is hurled!

268

AIR-"The rose that all are praising.

THE drink that's for me,

HE drink that's in the drunkard's bowl,
Is not the drink for me;

It kills his body and his soul;
How sad a sight is he!

But there's a drink which God hath given,
Distilling in the showers of heaven,
In measures large and free ;
O, that's the drink for me,
O, that's the drink for me,
O, that's the drink for me.

2 The stream that many prize so high,
Is not the stream for me;

For he who drinks it, still is dry,
And ever dry he'll be.

But there's a stream so cool and clear,
The thirsty traveller lingers near,

Refreshed and glad is he;
O, that's the stream for me,
O, that's the stream for me,
O, that's the stream for me.

3 The wine cup that so many prize,
Is not the cup for me.

The aching head, the bloated face,
In its sad train I see.

But there's a cup of water pure,
And he who drinks it may be sure,
Of health and length of days;
O, that's the cup for me,

269

O, that's the cup for me,

O, that's the cup for me.

AIR-" Scots wha hae."

RIENDS of Freedom swell the song,
Young and old the strain prolong,

FR

Make the temp'rance army strong,

And on to victory:

Lift your banners, let them wave,
Onward march a world to save,
Who would fill a drunkard's grave,
And bear his infamy?

2 Shrink not when the foe appears;
Spurn the coward's guilty fears,
Hear the shrieks, behold the tears,
Of ruined families.

Raise the cry in every spot,

Touch not, Taste not, Handle not,"

Who would be a drunken sot,
The worst of miseries!

3 Give the aching bosom rest,
Carry joy to every breast,

Make the wretched drunkard blest,
By living soberly.

Raise the glorious watchword high,
• Touch not, taste not, till you die,'
Let the echo reach the sky,
And earth keep jubilee.

4 God of mercy hear us plead,
For thy help we intercede,
See how many bosoms bleed,
And heal them speedily.
Hasten, Lord, the happy day,
When, beneath thy gentle sway,
TEMPERANCE all the world shall sway,
And reign triumphantly.

A CHARGE to keep I have,
Afflictions though they seem severe,
A fountain in Jesus which runs, &c.
Ah, whither should I go,

Alas! and did my Savior bleed,
All hail the power of Jesus' name,
Amazing grace how sweet the sound,
Almighty Savior, here we stand,
Am I a soldier of the cross,
And let this feeble body fail,

PAGE.

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159

43

72

51

114

221

72

3

91

A poor wayfaring man of grief,

148

Arise and shine, O Zion fair,

110

Awake my soul to joyful lays,

120

Away my doubts, begone my fears,
Awaked by Sinai's awful sound,

BACKSLIDERS who your misery, &c.
Before thy throne, O Lord, we bow,
Begone unbelief, my Savior is near,
Behold a stranger at the door,
Behold the grave where Jesus lay,
Blow ye the trumpet, blow,
Brethren, we have met for worship,
Brethren, while we sojourn here,
Burst ye emerald gates and bring,
By whom was David taught,
CALL'D to a sense of duty,

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186

86

41

220

76

96

12

23

79

31

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