ALCOHOL'S ARRAIGNMENT AND DOOM.

Alcohol! Alcohol! who are thy victims?

Come, answer me quickly; stand forth to the bar!

That frown most defiant

Will not make me pliant,

I've pledged myself firmly to wage with thee war.

For years thy dread shock

I have borne like a rock,

Still leaning for help on God's mighty aim.

Say, Alcohol, truly, who are thy victims?

“Of the rich and the poor, the good and the fair,

Mankind of each standing,

Know well I've a hand in

The havoc and ruin they see everywhere!

Daily with fury

From Still and from Brewery

I'm dealing out death without much alarm.

“Princes and Statesmen I count‘ mongst my victims,

With painters and poets, philosophers sage,

Rich merchants, skilled doctors,

Cute lawyers, keen proctors,

Mechanics and laborers of each sex and age

Are found in my ranks,

And lured on by my pranks,

While I care not a pin what comes to them.”

Then, Alcohol, tell me what do thy victims

In such vile standing while here in this world?

“They're spending their money

Not for milk and honey,

But for what will cause them to be quickly hurled

To that dreadful place

Where there is not a trace

Of richest mercy they here do contemn.”

Alcohol, tell me what more are thy victims

As fruits of their orgies accomplishing here?

Asylums they're filling,

While jails by their swilling

Are constantly crowded, or far off or near;

And orphans are made

By this great liquor trade,

In thousands as all may very soon see!

Alcohol, listen the doom which awaits thee:

More than half of thy doings thou'st kept out of sight.

Every good man and true

Deems it is but thy due

That thou should'st be banished to Regions of Night.

And heart-broken mates,

With all orphans’ sad fates,

Compel us to give forth this doom on thee.