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.