Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Good Templars' Song - Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Ye soldiers in the temperance cause,
Our work is but begun.
Oh! sit not down in idleness
And think the field is won.
Our lambs are straying from the fold,
The wolves are on the track:
Oh! can you sit and see them go,
Nor strive to bring them back?
O Good Templars!
There's work for us to-day.
Then gird your armor on again,
And only pause to pray.
Whichever way the eye may turn,
It sees the rum-shop stand
With open door and flowing bowl,
A viper in the land.
The grapes are hanging from the vines,
All ready for the press.
Before, behind, on every side
Are seeds of drunkenness.
Our foes are all untiring,
But God is with the right,
And we will conquer at the last-
Then onward to the fight!
Ay, onward to the battle-field,
Each woman, child, and man!
King Alcohol shall yet go down
With all his demon clan.
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