Mourn for the Thousands Slain

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.