[Music]
Friends of freedom, swell the song!
Young and old, the strain prolong!
Make the temp'rance army strong,
And on to victory.
Lift your banners, let them wave;
Onward march, a world to save;
Who would fill a drunkard's grave
And bear his infamy?
Shrink not when the foe appears;
Spurn the coward's guilty fears;
Hear the shrieks, behold the tears
Of ruined families!
Raise the cry in every spot:
"Touch not, taste not, handle not!"
Who would be a drunken sot,
The worst of miseries.
Give the aching bosom rest;
Carry joy to every breast;
Make the wretched drunkard blest,
By living soberly.
Raise the glorious watchword high:
"Touch not, taste not till you die"
Let the echo reach the sky,
And earth keep jubilee.
God of mercy, hear us plead,
For thy help we intercede;
See how many bosoms bleed!
And heal them speedily.
Hasten, Lord, the happy day,
When, beneath thy gentle ray,
Temp'rance all the world shall sway,
And reign triumphantly.
Evidently the time should be six-eight. It is found, measured thus, in
the 1859 edition of the _Sacred Harp_, p. 152, under the title
'Bruce's Address, Spiritualized', and begins,
Soldiers of the cross, arise!
Lo, your Captain from the skies,
Holding forth the glitt'ring prize,
Calls to victory.
Fear not though the battle lower,
Firmly stand the trying hour,
Stand the tempter's utmost power,
Spurn his slavery.
The earlier tune is given, in _Lyric Gems of Scotland_, p. 242, as
that of 'Hey tutti tattie'. It is there associated with the text
'Scots wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled', the same as 'Bruce's Address', of
which both the texts cited here are parodies.
No. 113
PILGRIM'S SONG, REV 369