1 Hark! what sad, despairing cries
From the drunkard’s home arise,
Hear them mounting to the skies,
To the ear of God;
Holding friends and neighbors dear,
Shall we stand in silence here,
Have we nothing here to fear
From his threat’ning rod?
2 Who shall dare withhold his hand,
While a tyrant rules the land,
Who would sheathe a coward’s brand,
Who the conflict shun?
Let us rise and smite the foe,
Lay his ruthless minions low,
Let us give him blow for blow,
Till the fight is won.
3 While our sons and brothers fall
‘Neath this overwhelming pall,
Shall we helpless view their thrall,
Shall we weep or cower?
No! we hurl the answer back,
Now’s the time to make attack,
Only churls and cravens lack
Courage for the hour.
4 There is one who rules above,
Let us trust His guiding love,
To our flood-bound ark his dove
Brings the longed for sign;
By that God whom we adore,
Victory shall come once more,
We shall win as they of yore,
By His power divine.