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The wretch, with hands by murder red, May hope for mercy at the last; And he who steals a nation's bread, May have oblivion's statute pa.s.sed.
But he who steals a sacred right, And brings his native land to scorn, Shall die a traitor in her sight, With none to pity or to mourn.
The Spirit of the Pilgrims.
Tune, "Be free, Oh man, be free," page 134.
The spirit of the Pilgrims Is spreading o'er the earth, And millions now point to the land Where Freedom had her birth: Hark! Hear ye not the earnest cry That peals o'er every wave?
"G.o.d above, In thy love, O liberate the slave!"
Ye heard of trampled Poland, And of her sons in chains, And n.o.ble thoughts flashed through your minds And fire flowed through your veins.
Then wherefore hear ye not the cry That breaks o'er land and sea?-- "On each plain, Rend the chain, And set the captive free!"
Oh, think ye that our fathers, (That n.o.ble patriot band,) Could now look down with kindling joy, And smile upon the land?
Or would a trumpet-tone go forth, And ring from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e;-- "All who stand, In this land, Shall be free for evermore!"
Great G.o.d, inspire thy children, And make thy creatures just, That every galling chain may fall, And crumble into dust: That not one soul throughout the land Our fathers died to save, May again, By fellow-men, Be branded as a Slave!
What Mean Ye?
TUNE--'_Ortonville_.'
What mean ye that ye bruise and bind My people, saith the Lord, And starve your craving brother's mind, Who asks to hear my word?
What mean ye that ye make them toil; Through long and dreary years, And shed like rain upon your soil Their blood and bitter tears?
What mean ye, that ye dare to rend The tender mother's heart?
Brothers from sisters, friend from friend, How dare you bid them part?
What mean ye when G.o.d's bounteous hand, To you so much has given, That from the slave who tills your land, Ye keep both earth and heaven?
When at the judgment G.o.d shall call, Where is thy brother? say, What mean ye to the Judge of all To answer on that day?
Hymn for Children.
AIR:--"_Miss Lucy Long_."
BY W.S. ABBOTT.
While we are happy here, In joy and peace and love, We'll raise our hearts, with holy fear, To thee, great G.o.d, above.
G.o.d of our infant hours!
The music of our tongues, The wors.h.i.+p of our n.o.bler powers, To thee, to thee belongs.
The little, trembling slave Shall feel our sympathy; O G.o.d! arise with might to save, And set the captive free.
No parent's holy care Provides for him repose, But oft the hot and briny tear, In sorrow freely flows.
The G.o.d of Abraham praise; The curse he will remove; The slave shall welcome happy days, With liberty and love.
Pray without ceasing, pray, Ye saints of G.o.d Most High, That all who hail this glorious day, May have their liberty.
Liberty Glee.
TUNE:--"_The Pirate's Glee_."
March on! march on! we love the Liberty flag, That's waving o'er our land; As fearless as the eagle soaring O'er the cloud-capped mountain crag, Slavery in terror flies before us; We fling our banner to the blast; It there shall float triumphant o'er us, We will defend it to the last.
March on! march on, &c.
Vote on! vote on, we hail the Liberty flag, That leads us on our way; We'll boldly vote, our country saving, And bravely conquer while we may.
The world is up--for freedom moving, The thunders' distant roar we hear-- From land to land the free are calling, And slaves with joy and rapture hear.
Vote on! vote on, &c.
March on! March on!
TUNE:--"_The Pirate's Glee_."
March on! march on, ye friends of freedom for all, For truth and right contend; Be ever ready at humanity's call, Till tyrant's power shall end.
The proud slave-holders rule the nation, The people's groans are loud and long; Arouse, ye men, in every station, And join to crush the power of wrong.--March on, etc.
Fight on! fight on, ye brave till victory's won, And justice shall prevail; Till all shall feel the rays of liberty's sun, Streaming o'er hill and dale.
The tyrants know their guilt and tremble, The glowing light of truth they fear; Then let them all their hosts a.s.semble, And Slavery's dreadful sentence hear.
Fight on! fight on, &c.
Roll on! roll on, ye brave, the liberty car, Our country's name to save; Soon shall our land be known to nations afar, As the home of the free and brave.
The voice of freemen loud hath spoken, A brighter day we soon shall see; When Slavery's chains shall all be broken, And all the captive millions free.
Roll on, roll on, &c.
