Exhortation To Be Temperate

Oh! what are the pangs that result from excess,
In quaffing the juice of the vine;
Tho' the bosom may feel them the tongue can't express
Half the pain that is lurking in wine.


Go ask of the drunkard, he'll tell you the throes
Of remorse that he feels in his breast;
Of his anguish, his sorrows, his pains and his woes,
Of the grief which his soul has possest.


He'll tell you 'tis wine has depriv'd him of friends,
Of comfort, of peace, and of health,
Of every enjoyment that Temperance lends,
Of character, credit and wealth.


He 'll tell you his standard as Man is disgraced;
He 'll portray the disease of his soul;
He 'll tell you he's humbled, degraded, debased,
By the demon that lurks in the bowl.


Then shun the vile spirit which causes the ills,
Too many have had to deplore;
Let your thirst be assuaged at the pure water rills,
And taste of the wine-cup no more.