The Unchained Monster.

An unchained monster roams to-night,
Through streets of city and town.
And few are the hands and few are the hearts
That are lifted to crush him down.
His outer robe is strangely fair;
And his smile is strangely bright;
But blacker his band and blacker his heart
Than ever was earthly night.

He clasps the hand of innocent youth
While he wears his sweetest smile,
And that hand grows dark and darker with crime,
And each thought is mixed with guile.
O'er man, in the pride of manhood's years,
He is throwing his awful spell,
He is leading him down, for ever down,
Where the feet take hold on hell.

The trembling steps of palsied age
Are following at his call,
He enters unbidden the lonely cot
And the high palatial hall.
And woman ! Oh, softly speak that name,
Ye mothers and sisters and wives,
And weep and pray for the fallen ones,
For the darkened homes and lives.

Oh list to the bitter wail of woe
That comes from hovel and hall,
Where the unchained monster's hand has been
And claimed their best, their all.
Then rise in the might that God has given,
And strike that monster low.
There is love to man and glory to God
In every conquering blow.

Oh rise, as you prize your happy homes,
Nor weary in the strife
Till the lowest one in the monster's thrall
Is raised to a higher life.
Arise for the battle is the Lord's,
He is calling for you to come
And fight till lowly lies the form
Of this unchained monster, Rum.