| Lyrics |
1 'Tis night; the drunkard sits alone;
The autumn rain-drops fall;
Why does he quail beneath its glance--
That picture on the wall?
A pale young face; he knows it well,
And loved it long ago;
But now, Oh, heav'n! He dare not think;
She told him 'twould be so;
Chorus:
But now, Oh, heav'n he dare not think;
She told him 'twould be so.
2 There was a time he would have spurn'd
The cold and reckless throng,
Whose midnight revel now he seeks,
And where he tarries long;
A moment, when he felt the tear
Of deep contrition flow;
BUt conscience seldom whispers now;
She told him 'twould be so;
3 He did not plunge at once in crime,
But step by step he trod;
One glass, another, then his lips
Profaned the name of God;
A wreck of all he might have been
A slave to guilt and woe,
'Till reason trembles on its throne,
She told him 'twould be so;
4 He closed his eyes, as if to hid
The present from his sight;
The hours sped on, the storm had passed,
The morning sun was bright.
They came to rouse him, but the tide
Of life had ceased to flow;
They laid him in a stranger's grave;
She told him 'twould be so;
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