Mourn for the thousands slain,
The youthful and the strong;
Mourn for the wine cup’s fearful reign,
And the deluded throng.

Mourn for the tarnished gem—
For reason’s light divine,
Quenched from the soul’s bright diadem,
Where God had bid it shine.

Mourn for the ruined soul—
Eternal life and light,
Lost by the fiery, maddening bowl,
And turned to hopeless night.

Mourn for the lost—but call,
Call to the strong, the free;
Rouse them to shun that dreadful fall,
And to the refuge flee.

Mourn for the lost—but pray,
Pray to our God above,
To break the fell destroyer’s sway,
And show His saving love.