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diff --git a/22089.txt b/22089.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ffdc651 --- /dev/null +++ b/22089.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6078 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Liberty Minstrel, by George W. Clark + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Liberty Minstrel + +Author: George W. Clark + +Release Date: July 16, 2007 [EBook #22089] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIBERTY MINSTREL *** + + + + +Produced by Carlo Traverso, collective PM for music, Linda +Cantoni, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net. (This file was produced from images +generously made available by the Library of Congress.) +Music transcribed by Linda Cantoni and the PGDP Music Team. + + + + + + + + + +THE + +LIBERTY MINSTREL. + + +[Illustration] + + + "When the striving of surges + Is mad on the main, + Like the charge of a column + Of plumes on the plain, + When the thunder is up + From his cloud cradled sleep + And the tempest is treading + The paths of the deep-- + There is beauty. But where is the beauty to see, + Like the sun-brilliant brow of a nation when free?" + + +BY + +GEO. W. CLARK. + + +NEW-YORK: + +LEAVITT & ALDEN, 7 CORNHILL, BOSTON: SAXTON & MILES, 205 +BROADWAY, N.Y.: MYRON FINCH, 120 NASSAU ST., N.Y.: +JACKSON & CHAPLIN, 38 DEAN ST., ALBANY, N.Y.: +JACKSON & CHAPLIN, CORNER GENESSEE AND +MAIN ST., UTICA, N.Y. + +1844. + +Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1844, by + +GEORGE W. CLARK, + +In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the Southern District +of New York. + +S.W. BENEDICT & CO. +MUSIC STEREOTYPERS AND PRINTERS, +16 _Spruce St._ N.Y. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +All creation is musical--all nature speaks the language of song. + + 'There's music in the sighing of a reed, + There's music in the gushing of a rill; + There's music in _all things_, if man had ears; + The _earth_ is but an _echo_ of the spheres.' + +And who is not moved by music? "Who ever despises music," says Martin +Luther, "I am displeased with him." + + 'There is a charm--a power that sways the breast, + Bids every passion revel, or be still; + Inspires with rage, or all our cares dissolves; + Can soothe _destruction_, and _almost soothes despair_.' + +That music is capable of accomplishing vast good, and that it is a +source of the most elevated and refined enjoyment when rightly +cultivated and practiced, no one who understands its power or has +observed its effects, will for a moment deny. + + 'Thou, O music! canst assuage the pain and heal the wound + That hath defied the skill of sager comforters; + Thou dost restrain each wild emotion, + Thou dost the rage of fiercest passions chill, + Or lightest up the flames of holy fire, + As through the soul thy strains harmonious thrill. + +Who does not desire to see the day when music in this country, +_cultivated and practised by_ ALL--music of a chaste, refined and +elevated style, shall go forth with its angel voice, like a spirit of +love upon the wind, exerting upon all classes of society a rich and +healthful moral influence. When its wonderful power shall be made to +subserve every righteous cause--to aid every humane effort for the +promotion of man's social, civil and religious well-being. + +It has been observed by travellers, that after a short residence in +almost any of the cities of the eastern world, one would fancy "every +second person a musician." During the night, the streets of these +cities, particularly Rome, the capitol of Italy, are filled with all +sorts of minstrelsy, and the ear is agreeably greeted with a perpetual +confluence of sweet sounds. A Scotch traveller, in passing through one +of the most delightful villas of Rome, overheard a stonemason chanting +something in a strain of peculiar melancholy; and on inquiry, +ascertained it to be the "_Lament of Tasso_." He soon learned that +this celebrated piece was familiar to all the common people. Torquato +Tasso was an Italian poet of great merit, who was for many years +deprived of liberty, and subjected to severe trials and misfortunes by +the jealousy and cruelty of his patron, the Duke of Ferrara. That +master-piece of music, so justly admired and so much sung by the high +and low throughout all Italy, had its origin in the wrongs of Tasso. +An ardent love of humanity--a deep consciousness of the injustice of +slavery--a heart full of sympathy for the oppressed, and a due +appreciation of the blessings of freedom, has given birth to the +poetry comprising this volume. I have long desired to see these +sentiments of love, of sympathy, of justice and humanity, so +beautifully expressed in poetic measure, embalmed in sweet music; so +that _all the people_--the rich, the poor, the young, and the old, who +have hearts to feel, and tongues to move, may sing of the wrongs of +slavery, and the blessings of liberty, until every human being shall +recognise in his fellow an _equal_;--"a MAN and a BROTHER." Until by +familiarity with these sentiments, and their influence upon their +_hearts_, _the people_, whose _duty it is_, shall "undo the heavy +burdens and let the oppressed go free." + +I announced, sometime since, my intention of publishing such a work. +Many have been impatiently waiting its appearance. I should have been +glad to have issued it and scattered it like leaves of the forest over +the land, long ago, but circumstances which I could not control, have +prevented. I purpose to enlarge the work from time to time, as +circumstances may require. + +Let associations of singers, having the love of liberty in their +hearts, be immediately formed in every community. Let them study +thoroughly, and make themselves perfectly familiar with both the +poetry and the music, and enter into the _sentiment_ of the piece they +perform, that they may _impress it_ upon their hearers. Above all +things, let the enunciation of every word be _clear_ and _distinct_. +Most of the singing of the present day, is entirely too artificial, +stiff and mechanical. It should be easy and natural; flowing directly +from the soul of the performer, without affectation or display; and +then singing will answer its true end, and not only please the _ear_, +but affect and improve the _heart_. + +To the true friends of universal freedom, the LIBERTY MINSTREL is +respectfully dedicated. + +G.W. CLARK. + +NEW YORK, Oct. 1844. + + + + +THE + +LIBERTY MINSTREL. + + + + +GONE, SOLD AND GONE. + +Words by Whittier. Music by G.W. Clark. + + +[Music] + + Gone, gone--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings, +Where the noisome insect stings, +Where the fever demon strews +Poison with the falling dews, +Where the sickly sunbeams glare +Through the hot and misty air, + Gone, gone--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, + From Virginia's hills and waters, + Woe is me my stolen daughters! + + Gone, gone--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +There no mother's eye is near them, +There no mother's ear can hear them; +Never when the torturing lash +Seams their back with many a gash, +Shall a mother's kindness bless them, +Or a mother's arms caress them. + Gone, gone--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, + From Virginia's hills and waters, + Woe is me my stolen daughters! + + Gone, gone--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +Oh, when weary, sad, and slow, +From the fields at night they go, +Faint with toil, and rack'd with pain, +To their cheerless homes again-- +There no brother's voice shall greet them-- +There no father's welcome meet them.--_Gone, &c._ + + Gone, gone--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +From the tree whose shadow lay +On their childhood's place of play-- +From the cool spring where they drank-- +Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank-- +From the solemn house of prayer, +And the holy counsels there.--_Gone, &c._ + + Gone, gone--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +Toiling through the weary day, +And at night the Spoiler's prey; +Oh, that they had earlier died, +Sleeping calmly, side by side, +Where the tyrant's power is o'er, +And the fetter galls no more!--_Gone, &c._ + + Gone, gone--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +By the holy love He beareth-- +By the bruised reed He spareth-- +Oh, may He, to whom alone +All their cruel wrongs are known, +Still their hope and refuge prove, +With a more than mother's love.--_Gone, &c._ + + + + +WHAT MEANS THAT SAD AND DISMAL LOOK? + +Words by Geo. Russell. Arranged from "Near the Lake," by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +What means that sad and dismal look, + And why those falling tears? +No voice is heard, no word is spoke, + Yet nought but grief appears. + +Ah! Mother, hast thou ever known + The pain of parting ties? +Was ever infant from thee torn + And sold before thine eyes? + +Say, would not grief _thy_ bosom swell? + _Thy_ tears like rivers flow? +Should some rude ruffian seize and sell + The child thou lovest so? + +There's feeling in a _Mother's_ breast, + Though _colored_ be her skin! +And though at Slavery's foul behest, + She must not weep for kin. + +I had a lovely, smiling child, + It sat upon my knee; +And oft a tedious hour beguiled, + With merry heart of glee. + +That child was from my bosom torn, + And sold before my eyes; +With outstretched arms, and looks forlorn, + It uttered piteous cries. + +Mother! dear Mother!--take, O take + Thy helpless little one! +Ah! then I thought my heart would break; + My child--my child was gone. + +Long, long ago, my child they stole, + But yet my grief remains; +These tears flow freely--and my soul + In bitterness complains. + +Then ask not why "my dismal look," + Nor why my "falling tears," +Such wrongs, what human heart can brook? + No hope for me appears. + + + + +The Slave Boy's Wish. + +BY ELIZA LEE FOLLEN. + + +I wish I was that little bird, + Up in the bright blue sky; +That sings and flies just where he will, + And no one asks him why. + +I wish I was that little brook, + That runs so swift along; +Through pretty flowers and shining stones, + Singing a merry song. + +I wish I was that butterfly, + Without a thought or care; +Sporting my pretty, brilliant wings, + Like a flower in the air. + +I wish I was that wild, wild deer, + I saw the other day; +Who swifter than an arrow flew, + Through the forest far away. + +I wish I was that little cloud, + By the gentle south wind driven; +Floating along, so free and bright, + Far, far up into heaven. + +I'd rather be a cunning fox, + And hide me in a cave; +I'd rather be a savage wolf, + Than what I am--a slave. + +My mother calls me her good boy, + My father calls me brave; +What wicked action have I done, + That I should be a slave. + +I saw my little sister sold, + So will they do to me; +My Heavenly Father, let me die, + For then I shall be free. + + + + +THE BEREAVED FATHER. + +Words by Miss Chandler. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +Ye've gone from me, my gentle ones! + With all your shouts of mirth; +A silence is within my walls, + A darkness round my hearth, + A darkness round my hearth. + +Woe to the hearts that heard, unmoved, + The mother's anguish'd shriek! +And mock'd, with taunting scorn, the tears + That bathed a father's cheek. + +Woe to the hands that tore you hence, + My innocent and good! +Not e'en the tigress of the wild, + Thus tears her fellow's brood. + +I list to hear your soft sweet tones, + Upon the morning air; +I gaze amidst the twilight's gloom, + As if to find you there. + +But you no more come bounding forth + To meet me in your glee; +And when the evening shadows fall, + Ye are not at my knee. + +Your forms are aye before my eyes, + Your voices on my ear, +And all things wear a thought of you, + But you no more are here. + +You were the glory of my life, + My blessing and my pride! +I half forgot the name of slave, + When you were by my side! + +Woe for your lot, ye doom'd ones! woe + A seal is on your fate! +And shame, and toil, and wretchedness, + On all your steps await! + + + + +SLAVE GIRL MOURNING HER FATHER. + +Parodied from Mrs. Sigourney by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +They say I was but four years old + When father was sold away; +Yet I have never seen his face + Since that sad parting day. +He went where brighter flowrets grow + Beneath the Southern skies; +Oh who will show me on the map + Where that far country lies? + +I begged him, "father, do not go! + For, since my mother died, +I love no one so well as you;" + And, clinging to his side, +The tears came gushing down my cheeks + Until my eyes were dim; +Some were in sorrow for the dead, + And _some_ in love for him. + +He knelt and prayed of God above, + "My little daughter spare, +And let us both here meet again, + O keep her in thy care." +He does not come!--I watch for him + At evening twilight grey, +Till every shadow wears his shape, + Along the grassy way. + +I muse and listen all alone, + When stormy winds are high, +And think I hear his tender tone, + And call, but no reply; +And so I've done these four long years, + Without a friend or home, +Yet every dream of hope is vain,-- + Why don't my father come? + +Father--dear father, are you sick, + Upon a stranger shore?-- +The people say it must be so-- + O send to me once more, +And let your little daughter come, + To soothe your restless bed, +And hold the cordial to your lips, + And press your aching head. + +Alas!--I fear me he is dead!-- + Who will my trouble share? +Or tell me where his form is laid, + And let me travel there? +By mother's tomb I love to sit, + Where the green branches wave; +Good people! help a friendless child + To find her father's grave. + + + + +The Slave and her Babe. + +WORDS BY CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. + +"Can a woman forget her sucking child?" + +_Air--"Slave Girl mourning her Father."_ + + +O, massa, let me stay, to catch + My baby's sobbing breath; +His little glassy eye to watch, + And smooth his limbs in death, +And cover him with grass and leaf, + Beneath the plantain tree! +It is not sullenness, but grief-- + O, massa, pity me! + +God gave me babe--a precious boon, + To cheer my lonely heart, +But massa called to work too soon, + And I must needs depart. +The morn was chill--I spoke no word, + But feared my babe might die, +And heard all day, or thought I heard, + My little baby cry. + +At noon--O, how I ran! and took + My baby to my breast! +I lingered--and the long lash broke + My sleeping infant's rest. +I worked till night--till darkest night, + In torture and disgrace; +Went home, and watched till morning light, + To see my baby's face. + +The fulness from its cheek was gone, + The sparkle from its eye; +Now hot, like fire, now cold, like stone, + I _knew_ my babe must die. +I worked upon plantation ground, + Though faint with woe and dread, +Then ran, or flew, and here I found-- + See massa, almost dead. + +Then give me but one little hour-- + O! do not lash me so! +One little hour--one little hour-- + And gratefully I'll go. +Ah me! the whip has cut my boy, + I heard his feeble scream; +No more--farewell my only joy, + My life's first gladsome dream! + +I lay thee on the lonely sod, + The heaven is bright above; +These Christians boast they have a God, + And say his name is Love: +O gentle, loving God, look down! + My dying baby see; +The mercy that from earth is flown, + Perhaps may dwell with THEE! + + + + +THE NEGRO'S APPEAL. + +Words by Cowper. Tune--"Isle of Beauty." + + +[Music] + +Forced from home and all its pleasures, + Afric's coast I left forlorn; +To increase a stranger's treasures, + O'er the raging billows borne. +Christian people bought and sold me, + Paid my price in paltry gold: +But though slave they have enrolled me + _Minds_ are never to be sold. + +Is there, as ye sometimes tell me, + Is there one who reigns on high? +Has he bid you buy and sell me, + Speaking from his throne--the sky? +Ask him, if your knotted scourges, + Matches, blood-extorting screws, +Are the means that duty urges + Agents of his will to use. + +Hark! he answers--wild tornadoes, + Strewing yonder sea with wrecks, +Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, + Are the voice with which he speaks. +He, foreseeing what vexations + Afric's sons should undergo, +Fixed their tyrant's habitations, + Where his whirlwinds answer--No! + +By our blood in Afric' wasted, + Ere our necks received the chain; +By the miseries that we tasted, + Crossing in your barks the main: +By our sufferings, since ye brought us + To the man-degrading mart, +All sustained by patience, taught us + Only by a broken heart-- + +Deem our nation brutes no longer, + Till some reason ye shall find, +Worthier of regard and stronger + Than the _color_ of our kind. +Slaves of gold! whose sordid dealings + Tarnish all your boasted powers; +Prove that you have human feelings, + Ere you proudly question ours. + + + + +NEGRO BOY SOLD FOR A WATCH.[1] + +[Footnote 1: An African prince having arrived in England, and having +been asked what he had given for his watch, answered, "What I will +never give again--I gave a fine boy for it."] + +Words by Cowper. Arranged by G.W.C. from an old theme. + + +[Music] + +When avarice enslaves the mind, + And selfish views alone bear sway +Man turns a savage to his kind, + And blood and rapine mark his way. +Alas! for this poor simple toy, + I sold the hapless Negro boy. + +His father's hope, his mother's pride, + Though black, yet comely to the view +I tore him helpless from their side, + And gave him to a ruffian crew-- +To fiends that Afric's coast annoy, + I sold the hapless Negro Boy. + +From country, friends, and parents torn, + His tender limbs in chains confined, +I saw him o'er the billows borne, + And marked his agony of mind; +But still to gain this simple toy, + I gave the weeping Negro Boy. + +In isles that deck the western wave + I doomed the hapless youth to dwell, +A poor, forlorn, insulted slave! + A BEAST THAT CHRISTIANS BUY AND SELL! +And in their cruel tasks employ + The much-enduring Negro Boy. + +His wretched parents long shall mourn, + Shall long explore the distant main +In hope to see the youth return; + But all their hopes and sighs are vain: +They never shall the sight enjoy, + Of their lamented Negro Boy. + +Beneath a tyrant's harsh command, + He wears away his youthful prime; +Far distant from his native land, + A stranger in a foreign clime. +No pleasing thoughts his mind employ, + A poor, dejected Negro Boy. + +But He who walks upon the wind, + Whose voice in thunder's heard on high, +Who doth the raging tempest bind, + And hurl the lightning through the sky, +In his own time will sure destroy + The oppressor of the Negro Boy. + + + + +I AM MONARCH OF NOUGHT I SURVEY. + +A Parody. Air "Old Dr. Fleury." + + +I am monarch of nought I survey, + My wrongs there are none to dispute; +My master conveys me away, + His whims or caprices to suit. +O slavery, where are the charms + That "patriarchs" have seen in thy face; +I dwell in the midst of alarms, + And serve in a horrible place. + +I am out of humanity's reach, + And must finish my life with a groan; +Never hear the sweet music of speech + That tells me my body's my own. +Society, friendship, and love, + Divinely bestowed upon some, +Are blessings I never can prove, + If slavery's my portion to come. + +Religion! what treasures untold, + Reside in that heavenly word! +More precious than silver or gold, + Or all that this earth can afford. +But I am excluded the light + That leads to this heavenly grace; +The Bible is clos'd to my sight, + Its beauties I never can trace. + +Ye winds, that have made me your sport, + Convey to this sorrowful land, +Some cordial endearing report, + Of freedom from tyranny's hand. +My friends, do they not often send, + A wish or a thought after me? +O, tell me I yet have a friend, + A friend I am anxious to see. + +How fleet is a glance of the mind! + Compared with the speed of its flight; +The tempest itself lags behind, + And the swift-winged arrows of light. +When I think of Victoria's domain, + In a moment I seem to be there, +But the fear of being taken again, + Soon hurries me back to despair. + +The wood-fowl has gone to her nest, + The beast has lain down in his lair; +To me, there's no season of rest, + Though I to my quarter repair. +If mercy, O Lord, is in store, + For those who in slavery pine; +Grant me when life's troubles are o'er, + A place in thy kingdom divine. + + + + +THE AFRIC'S DREAM. + +Words by Miss Chandler. "Emigrant's Lament," arranged by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +Why did ye wake me from my sleep? It was a dream of bliss, +And ye have torn me from that land, to pine again in this; +Methought, beneath yon whispering tree, that I was laid to rest, +The turf, with all its with'ring flowers, upon my cold heart pressed. + +My chains, these hateful chains, were gone--oh, would that I might die, +So from my swelling pulse I could forever cast them by! +And on, away, o'er land and sea, my joyful spirit passed, +Till, 'neath my own banana tree, I lighted down at last. + +My cabin door, with all its flowers, was still profusely gay, +As when I lightly sported there, in childhood's careless day! +But trees that were as sapling twigs, with broad and shadowing bough, +Around the well-known threshhold spread a freshening coolness now. + +The birds whose notes I used to hear, were shouting on the earth, +As if to greet me back again with their wild strains of mirth; +My own bright stream was at my feet, and how I laughed to lave +My burning lip, and cheek, and brow, in that delicious wave! + +My boy, my first-born babe, had died amid his early hours, +And there we laid him to his sleep among the clustering flowers; +Yet lo! without my cottage-door he sported in his glee, +With her whose grave is far from his, beneath yon linden tree. + +I sprang to snatch them to my soul; when breathing out my name, +To grasp my hand, and press my lip, a crowd of loved ones came! +Wife, parents, children, kinsmen, friends! the dear and lost ones all, +With blessed words of welcome came, to greet me from my thrall. + +Forms long unseen were by my side; and thrilling on my ear, +Came cadences from gentle tones, unheard for many a year; +And on my cheeks fond lips were pressed, with true affection's kiss-- +And so ye waked me from my sleep--but 'twas a dream of bliss! + + + + +SONG OF THE COFFLE GANG.[2] + +[Footnote 2: This song is said to be sung by Slaves, as they are +chained in gangs, when parting from friends for the far off +South--children taken from parents, husbands from wives, and brothers +from sisters.] + +Words by the Slaves. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + + See these poor souls from Africa, + Transported to America; +We are stolen, and sold to Georgia, will you go along with me? +We are stolen and sold to Georgia, go sound the jubilee. + + See wives and husbands sold apart, + The children's screams!--it breaks my heart; +There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me? +There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee. + + O gracious Lord! when shall it be, + That we poor souls shall all be free? +Lord, break them Slavery powers--will you go along with me? +Lord, break them Slavery powers, go sound the jubilee. + + Dear Lord! dear Lord! when Slavery'll cease, + Then we poor souls can have our peace; +There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me? +There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee. + + + + +HARK! I HEAR A SOUND OF ANGUISH. + +Air, "Calvary." + + +[Music] + +Hark! I hear a sound of anguish + In my own, my native land; +Brethren, doomed in chains to languish, + Lift to heaven the suppliant hand, + And despairing, + And despairing, + Death the end of woe demand. + +Let us raise our supplication + For the wretched suffering slave, +All whose life is desolation, + All whose hope is in the grave; + God of mercy! + From thy throne, O hear and save. + +Those in bonds we would remember + As if we with them were bound; +For each crushed, each suffering member + Let our sympathies abound, + Till our labors + Spread the smiles of freedom round. + +Even now the word is spoken; + "Slavery's cruel power must cease, +From the bound the chain be broken, + Captives hail the kind release," + While in splendor + Comes to reign the Prince of Peace. + + + + +BROTHERS BE BRAVE FOR THE PINING SLAVE. + +Air--"Sparkling and Bright." + + +[Music] + +Solo. + +Heavy and cold in his dungeon hold, + Is the yoke of the oppressor; +Dark o'er the soul is the fell control + Of the stern and dread transgressor. + +Chorus. + + Oh then come all to bring the thrall + Up from his deep despairing, + And out of the jaw of the bandit's law, + Retake the prey he's tearing: + O then come all to bring the thrall + Up from his deep despairing, + And out of the jaw of the bandit's law, + Retake the prey he's tearing. + +Brothers be brave for the pining slave, + From his wife and children riven; +From every vale their bitter wail + Goes sounding up to Heaven. + Then for the life of that poor wife, + And for those children pining; + O ne'er give o'er till the chains no more + Around their limbs are twining. + +Gloomy and damp is the low rice swamp, + Where their meagre bands are wasting; +All worn and weak, in vain they seek + For rest, to the cool shade hasting; + For drivers fell, like fiends from hell, + Cease not their savage shouting; + And the scourge's crack, from quivering back, + Sends up the red blood spouting. + +Into the grave looks only the slave, + For rest to his limbs aweary; +His spirit's light comes from that night, + To us so dark and dreary. + That soul shall nurse its heavy curse + Against a day of terror, + When the lightning gleam of his wrath shall stream + Like fire, on the hosts of error. + +Heavy and stern are the bolts which burn + In the right hand of Jehovah; +To smite the strong red arm of wrong, + And dash his temples over; + Then on amain to rend the chain, + Ere bursts the vallied thunder; + Right onward speed till the slave is freed-- + His manacles torn asunder. + +E.D.H. + + + + +THE QUADROON MAIDEN. + +Words by Longfellow. Theme from the Indian Maid. + + +[Music] + +The Slaver in the broad lagoon, + Lay moored with idle sail; +He waited for the rising moon, + And for the evening gale. + +The Planter under his roof of thatch, + Smoked thoughtfully and slow; +The Slaver's thumb was on the latch, + He seemed in haste to go. + +He said, "My ship at anchor rides + In yonder broad lagoon; +I only wait the evening tides, + And the rising of the moon." + +Before them, with her face upraised, + In timid attitude, +Like one half curious, half amazed, + A Quadroon maiden stood. + +And on her lips there played a smile + As holy, meek, and faint, +As lights, in some cathedral aisle, + The features of a saint. + +"The soil is barren, the farm is old," + The thoughtful Planter said, +Then looked upon the Slaver's gold, + And then upon the maid. + +His heart within him was at strife, + With such accursed gains; +For he knew whose passions gave her life, + Whose blood ran in her veins. + +But the voice of nature was too weak: + He took the glittering gold! +Then pale as death grew the maiden's cheek, + Her hands as icy cold. + +The Slaver led her from the door, + He led her by the hand, +To be his slave and paramour + In a far and distant land. + + + + +Domestic Bliss. + +BY REV. JAMES GREGG. + + +Domestic bliss; thou fairest flower + That erst in Eden grew, +Dear relic of the happy bower, + Our first grand parents knew! + +We hail thee in the rugged soil + Of this waste wilderness, +To cheer our way and cheat our toil, + With gleams of happiness. + +In thy mild light we travel on, + And smile at toil and pain; +And think no more of Eden gone, + For Eden won again. + +Such, Emily, the bliss, the joy + By Heaven bestowed on you; +A husband kind, a lovely boy, + A father fond and true. + +Religion adds her cheering beams, + And sanctifies these ties; +And sheds o'er all the brighter gleams, + She borrows from the skies. + +But ah! reflect; are _all_ thus blest? + Hath home such charms for _all_? +Can such delights as these invest + Foul slavery's wretched thrall? + +Can those be happy in these ties + Who wear her galling chain? +Or taste the blessed charities + That in the household reign? + +Can those be blest, whose hope, whose life, + Hang on a tyrant's nod; +To whom nor husband, child, nor wife + Are known--yea, scarcely God? + +Whose ties may all be rudely riven, + At avarice' fell behest; +Whose only hope of _home_ is heaven, + The grave their only rest. + +Oh! think of those, the poor, th' oppressed, + In your full hour of bliss; +Nor e'er from prayer and effort rest, + While earth bears woe like this. + + + + +O PITY THE SLAVE MOTHER. + +Words from the Liberator. Air, Araby's Daughter. + + +[Music] + +I pity the slave mother, careworn and weary, + Who sighs as she presses her babe to her breast; +I lament her sad fate, all so hopeless and dreary, + I lament for her woes, and her wrongs unredressed. +O who can imagine her heart's deep emotion, + As she thinks of her children about to be sold; +You may picture the bounds of the rock-girdled ocean, + But the grief of that mother can never be known. + +The mildew of slavery has blighted each blossom, + That ever has bloomed in her pathway below; +It has froze every fountain that gushed in her bosom, + And chilled her heart's verdure with pitiless woe: +Her parents, her kindred, all crushed by oppression; + Her husband still doomed in its desert to stay; +No arm to protect from the tyrant's aggression-- + She must weep as she treads on her desolate way. + +O, slave-mother, hope! see--the nation is shaking! + The arm of the Lord is awake to thy wrong! +The slave-holder's heart now with terror is quaking + Salvation and Mercy to Heaven belong! +Rejoice, O rejoice! for the child thou art rearing, + May one day lift up its unmanacled form, +While hope, to thy heart, like the rain-bow so cheering, + Is born, like the rain-bow, 'mid tempest and storm. + + + + +How long! O! how long! + + +How long will the friend of the slave plead in vain? +How long e'er the Christian will loosen the chain? +If he, by our efforts, more hardened should be, +O Father, forgive him! we trust but in thee. +That 'we're all free and equal,' how senseless the cry, +While millions in bondage are groaning so nigh! +O where is our freedom? equality where? +To this none can answer, but echo cries, where? + +O'er this stain on our country we'd fain draw a veil, +But history's page will proclaim the sad tale, +That Christians, unblushing, could shout 'we are free,' +Whilst they the oppressors of millions could be. +They can feel for themselves, for the Pole they can feel, +Towards Afric's children their hearts are like steel; +They are deaf to their call, to their wrongs they are blind; +In error they slumber nor seek truth to find. + +Though scorn and oppression on our pathway attend, +Despised and reviled, we the slave will befriend; +Our Father, thy blessing! we look but to thee, +Nor cease from our labors till all shall be free. +Should mobs in their fury with missiles assail, +The cause it is righteous, the truth will prevail; +Then heed not their clamors, though loud they proclaim +That freedom shall slumber, and slavery reign. + + + + +THE FUGITIVE SLAVE TO THE CHRISTIAN. + +Words by Elizur Wright, jr. Music arranged from Cracovienne. + + +[Music] + +The fetters galled my weary soul,-- +A soul that seemed but thrown away; +I spurned the tyrant's base control, +Resolved at last the man to play:-- + +Chorus. + + The hounds are baying on my track; + O Christian! will you send me back? + The hounds are baying on my track; + O Christian! will you send me back? + +I felt the stripes, the lash I saw, +Red, dripping with a father's gore; +And, worst of all their lawless law, +The insults that my mother bore! + The hounds are baying on my track, + O Christian! will you send me back? + +Where human law o'errules Divine, +Beneath the sheriff's hammer fell +My wife and babes,--I call them mine,-- +And where they suffer, who can tell? + The hounds are baying on my track, + O Christian! will you send me back? + +I seek a home where man is man, +If such there be upon this earth, +To draw my kindred, if I can, +Around its free, though humble hearth. + The hounds are baying on my track, + O Christian! will you send me back! + + + + +The Strength of Tyranny. + + +The tyrant's chains are only strong + While slaves submit to wear them; +And, who could bind them on the strong, + Determined not to wear them? +Then clank your chains, e'en though the links + Were light as fashion's feather: +The heart which rightly feels and thinks + Would cast them altogether. + +The lords of earth are only great + While others clothe and feed them! +But what were all their pride and state + Should labor cease to heed them? +The swain is higher than a king: + Before the laws of nature, +The monarch were a useless thing, + The swain a useless creature. + +We toil, we spin, we delve the mine, + Sustaining each his neighbor; +And who can hold a right divine + To rob us of our labor? +We rush to battle--bear our lot + In every ill and danger-- +And who shall make the peaceful cot + To homely joy a stranger? + +Perish all tyrants far and near, + Beneath the chains that bind us; +And perish too that servile fear + Which makes the slaves they find us: +One grand, one universal claim-- + One peal of moral thunder-- +One glorious burst in Freedom's name, + And rend our bonds asunder! + + + + +THE BLIND SLAVE BOY. + +Words by Mrs. Dr. Bailey. Music arranged from Sweet Afton. + + +[Music] + +Come back to me mother! why linger away +From thy poor little blind boy, the long weary day! +I mark every footstep, I list to each tone, +And wonder my mother should leave me alone! +There are voices of sorrow, and voices of glee, +But there's no one to joy or to sorrow with me; +For each hath of pleasure and trouble his share, +And none for the poor little blind boy will care. + +My mother, come back to me! close to thy breast +Once more let thy poor little blind one be pressed; +Once more let me feel thy warm breath on my cheek, +And hear thee in accents of tenderness speak! +O mother! I've no one to love me--no heart +Can bear like thine own in my sorrows a part, +No hand is so gentle, no voice is so kind, +Oh! none like a mother can cherish the blind! + +Poor blind one! No mother thy wailing can hear, +No mother can hasten to banish thy fear; +For the slave-owner drives her, o'er mountain and wild, +And for one paltry dollar hath sold thee, poor child! +Ah! who can in language of mortals reveal +The anguish that none but a mother can feel, +When man in his vile lust of mammon hath trod +On her child, who is stricken and smitten of God! + +Blind, helpless, forsaken, with strangers alone, +She hears in her anguish his piteous moan; +As he eagerly listens--but listens in vain, +To catch the loved tones of his mother again! +The curse of the broken in spirit shall fall +On the wretch who hath mingled this wormwood and gall, +And his gain like a mildew shall blight and destroy, +Who hath torn from his mother the little blind boy! + + + + +SLAVE'S WRONGS. + +Words by Miss Chandler. Arranged from "Rose of Allandale." + + +[Music] + +With aching brow and wearied limb, + The slave his toil pursued; +And oft I saw the cruel scourge + Deep in his blood imbrued; +He tilled oppression's soil where men + For liberty had bled, +And the eagle wing of Freedom waved + In mockery, o'er his head. + +The earth was filled with the triumph shout + Of men who had burst their chains; +But his, the heaviest of them all, + Still lay on his burning veins; +In his master's hall there was luxury, + And wealth, and mental light; +But the very book of the Christian law, + Was hidden from his sight. + +In his master's halls there was wine and mirth, + And songs for the newly free; +But his own low cabin was desolate + Of all but misery. +He felt it all--and to bitterness + His heart within him turned; +While the panting wish for liberty, + Like a fire in his bosom burned. + +The haunting thought of his wrongs grew changed + To a darker and fiercer hue, +Till the horrible shape it sometimes wore + At last familiar grew; +There was darkness all within his heart, + And madness in his soul; +And the demon spark, in his bosom nursed, + Blazed up beyond control. + +Then came a scene! oh! such a scene! + I would I might forget +The ringing sound of the midnight scream, + And the hearth-stone redly wet! +The mother slain while she shrieked in vain + For her infant's threatened life; +And the flying form of the frighted child, + Struck down by the bloody knife. + +There's many a heart that yet will start + From its troubled sleep, at night, +As the horrid form of the vengeful slave + Comes in dreams before the sight. +The slave was crushed, and his fetters' link + Drawn tighter than before; +And the bloody earth again was drenched + With the streams of his flowing gore. + +Ah! know they not, that the tightest band + Must burst with the wildest power?-- +That the more the slave is oppressed and wronged, + Will be fiercer his rising hour? +They may thrust him back with the arm of might, + They may drench the earth with his blood-- +But the best and purest of their own, + Will blend with the sanguine flood. + +I could tell thee more--but my strength is gone, + And my breath is wasting fast; +Long ere the darkness to-night has fled, + Will my life from the earth have passed: +But this, the sum of all I have learned, + Ere I go I will tell to thee;-- +If tyrants would hope for tranquil hearts, + They must let the oppressed go free. + + + + +MY CHILD IS GONE. + +Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +Hark! from the winds a voice of woe, +The wild Atlantic in its flow, +Bears on its breast the murmur low, + My child is gone! + +Like savage tigers o'er their prey, +They tore him from my heart away; +And now I cry, by night by day-- + My child is gone! + +How many a free-born babe is press'd +With fondness to its mother's breast, +And rocked upon her arms to rest, + While mine is gone! + +No longer now, at eve I see, +Beneath the sheltering plantain tree, +My baby cradled on my knee, + For he is gone! + +And when I seek my cot at night, +There's not a thing that meets my sight, +But tells me that my soul's delight, + My child, is gone! + +I sink to sleep, and then I seem +To hear again his parting scream +I start and wake--'tis but a dream-- + My child _is_ gone! + +Gone--till my toils and griefs are o'er, +And I shall reach that happy shore, +Where negro mothers cry no more-- + My child is gone! + + + + +COMFORT IN AFFLICTION. + +Words by William Leggett. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +If yon bright stars which gem the night, + Be each a blissful dwelling sphere, +Where kindred spirits reunite + Whom death has torn asunder here, +How sweet it were at once to die, + And leave this blighted orb afar! +Mix soul with soul to cleave the sky, + And soar away from star to star! + +But oh! how dark, how drear, how lone, + Would seem the brightest world of bliss, +If, wandering through each radiant one, + We failed to find the loved of this! + +If there no more the ties should twine, + Which Death's cold hand alone can sever, +Ah! then those stars in mockery shine, + More hateful as they shine forever! + +It cannot be--each hope and fear, + That lights the eye or clouds the brow, +Proclaims there is a happier sphere + Than this bleak world that holds us now! + +There is a voice which sorrow hears, + When heaviest weighs life's galling chain, +'Tis heaven that whispers, "dry thy tears, + The pure in heart shall meet again." + + + + +The Poor Little Slave. + +FROM "THE CHARTER OAK." + + +O pity the poor little slave, + Who labors hard through all the day-- + And has no one, + When day is done, + To teach his youthful heart to pray. + +No words of love--no fond embrace-- + No smiles from parents kind and dear; + No tears are shed + Around his bed, + When fevers rage, and death is near. + +None feel for him when heavy chains + Are fastened to his tender limb; + No pitying eyes, + No sympathies, + No prayers are raised to heaven for him. + +Yes I will pity the poor slave, + And pray that he may soon be free; + That he at last, + When days are past, + In heaven may have his liberty. + + + + +THE BEREAVED MOTHER. + +Words by Jesse Hutchinson. Air, "Kathleen O'Moore." + + +[Music] + +Oh deep was the anguish of the slave mother's heart, +When called from her darling for ever to part; +So grieved that lone mother, that heart broken mother, + In sorrow and woe. + +The lash of the master her deep sorrows mock, +While the child of her bosom is sold on the block; +Yet loud shrieked that mother, poor heart broken mother, + In sorrow and woe. + +The babe in return, for its fond mother cries, +While the sound of their wailings together arise; +They shriek for each other, the child and the mother, + In sorrow and woe. + +The harsh auctioneer to sympathy cold, +Tears the babe from its mother and sells it for gold; +While the infant and mother, loud shriek for each other, + In sorrow and woe. + +At last came the parting of mother and child, +Her brain reeled with madness, that mother was wild; +Then the lash could not smother the shrieks of that mother, + Of sorrow and woe. + +The child was borne off to a far distant clime, +While the mother was left in anguish to pine; +But reason departed, and she sank broken hearted, + In sorrow and woe. + +That poor mourning mother, of reason bereft, +Soon ended her sorrows and sank cold in death: +Thus died that slave mother, poor heart broken mother, + In sorrow and woe. + +Oh! list ye kind mothers to the cries of the slave; +The parents and children implore you to save; +Go! rescue the mothers, the sisters and brothers, + From sorrow and woe. + + + + +HEARD YE THAT CRY. + +From "Wind of the Winter night." + + +[Music] + +Heard ye that cry! Twas the wail of a slave, +As he sank in despair, to the rest of the grave; +Behold him where bleeding and prostrate he lies, +Unfriended he lived, and unpitied he died. + +The white man oppressed him--the white man for gold, +Made him toil amidst tortures that cannot be told; +He robbed him, and spoiled him, of all that was dear, +And made him the prey of affliction and fear. + +But his anguish was seen, and his wailings were heard, +By the Lord God of Hosts; whose vengeance deferred, +Gathers force by delay, and with fury will burst, +On his impious oppressor--the tyrant accurst! + +Arouse ye, arouse ye! ye generous and brave, +Plead the rights of the poor--plead the cause of the slave; +Nor cease your exertions till broken shall be +The fetters that bind him, and the slave shall be free. + + + + +Sleep on my Child. + +BY R.J.H. + + +Sleep on, my child, in peaceful rest, +While lovely visions round thee play; +No care or grief has touched thy breast, +Thy life is yet a cloudless day. + +Far distant is my childhood's home-- +No mother's smiles--no father's care! +Oh! how I'd love again to roam, +Where once my little playmates were! + +Sleep on, thou hast not felt the chain; +But though 'tis yet unmingled joy, +I may not see those smiles again, +Nor clasp thee to my breast, my boy. + +And must I see thee toil and bleed! +Thy manly soul in fetters tied; +'Twill wring thy mother's heart indeed-- +Oh! would to God that I had died! + +That soul God's own bright image bears-- +But oh! no tongue thy woes can tell; +Thy lot is cast in blood and tears, +And soon these lips must say--farewell! + + + + +ZAZA--THE FEMALE SLAVE. + +Words by Miss Ball. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +O my country, my country! how long I for thee, +Far over the mountain, far over the sea. +Where the sweet Joliba kisses the shore, +Say, shall I wander by thee never more? +Where the sweet Joliba kisses the shore, +Say, shall I wander by thee never more? +O my country, my country! how long I for thee, +Far over the mountain, far over the sea. + + Say, O fond Zurima, + Where dost thou stay? + Say, doth another + List to thy sweet lay? + Say, doth the orange still + Bloom near our cot? + Zurima, Zurima, + Am I forgot? +O, my country, my country! how long I for thee, +Far over the mountain, far over the sea. + + Under the baobab + Oft have I slept, + Fanned by sweet breezes + That over me swept. + Often in dreams + Do my weary limbs lay + 'Neath the same baobab, + Far, far away, +O my country, my country, how long I for thee, +Far over the mountain, far over the sea. + + O for the breath + Of our own waving palm, + Here, as I languish, + My spirit to calm-- + O for a draught + From our own cooling lake, + Brought by sweet mother, + My spirit to wake. +O my country, my country, how long I for thee, +Far over the mountain, far over the sea. + + + + +PRAYER FOR THE SLAVE. + +Tune--Hamburgh. + + +[Music] + +Oh let the pris'ner's mournful sighs + As incense in thy sight appear! +Their humble wailings pierce the skies, + If haply they may feel thee near. + +The captive exiles make their moans, + From sin impatient to be free; +Call home, call home, thy banished ones! + Lead captive their captivity! + +Out of the deep regard their cries, + The fallen raise, the mourners cheer, +Oh, Son of Righteousness, arise, + And scatter all their doubts and fear. + +Stand by them in the fiery hour, + Their feebleness of mind defend; +And in their weakness show thy power, + And make them patient to the end. + +Relieve the souls whose cross we bear, + For whom thy suffering members mourn: +Answer our faith's effectual prayer; + And break the yoke so meekly borne! + + + + +Remembering that God is just. + + +Oh righteous God! whose awful frown + Can crumble nations to the dust, +Trembling we stand before thy throne, + When we reflect that thou art just. + +Dost thou not see the dreadful wrong, + Which Afric's injured race sustains? +And wilt thou not arise ere long, + To plead their cause, and break their chains? + +Must not thine anger quickly rise + Against the men whom lust controls, +Who dare thy righteous laws despise + And traffic in the blood of souls? + + + + +THE FUGITIVE. + +Words by L.M.C. Air "Bonny Doon." + + +[Music] + +A noble man of sable brow +Came to my humble cottage door, +With cautious, weary step and slow, +And asked if I could feed the poor; +He begged if I had ought to give, +To help the panting fugitive. + +I told him he had fled away +From his kind master, friends, and home; +That he was black--a slave astray, +And should return as he had come; +That I would to his master give +The straying villain fugitive. + +He fell upon his trembling knee +And claimed he was a brother man, +That I was bound to set him free, +According to the gospel plan; +And if I would God's grace receive, +That I must help the fugitive. + +He showed the stripes his master gave, +The festering wound--the sightless eye, +The common badges of the slave, +And said he would be free, or die; +And if I nothing had to give, +I should not stop the fugitive. + +He owned his was a sable skin, +That which his Maker first had given; +But mine would be a darker sin, +That would exclude my soul from heaven: +And if I would God's grace receive, +I should relieve the fugitive. + +I bowed and took the stranger in, +And gave him meat, and drink, and rest, +I hope that God forgave my sin, +And made me with that brother blest; +I am resolved, long as I live, +To help the panting fugitive. + + + + +AM I NOT A MAN AND BROTHER? + +Words by A.C.L. Air--"Bride's Farewell." + + +[Music] + +Am I not a man and brother? + Ought I not, then, to be free? +Sell me not one to another, + Take not thus my liberty. +Christ our Saviour, Christ our Saviour, + Died for me as well as thee. + +Am I not a man and brother? + Have I not a soul to save? +Oh, do not my spirit smother, + Making me a wretched slave: +God of mercy, God of mercy, + Let me fill a freeman's grave! + +Yes, thou art a man and brother, + Though thou long hast groaned a slave, +Bound with cruel cords and tether + From the cradle to the grave! +Yet the Saviour, yet the Saviour, + Bled and died all souls to save. + +Yes, thou art a man and brother, + Though we long have told thee nay: +And are bound to aid each other, + All along our pilgrim way. +Come and welcome, come and welcome, + Join with us to praise and pray! + + + + +Am I not a Sister? + +BY A.C.L. + + +Am I not a sister, say? + Shall I then be bought and sold +In the mart and by the way, + For the white man's lust and gold? +Save me then from his foul snare, +Leave me not to perish there! + +Am I not a sister say, + Though I have a sable hue! +Lo! I have been dragged away, + From my friends and kindred true, +And have toiled in yonder field, +There have long been bruised and peeled! + +Am I not a sister, say? + Have I an immortal soul? +Will you, sisters, tell me nay? + Shall I live in lust's control, +To be chattled like a beast, +By the Christian church and priest? + +Am I not a sister, say? + Though I have been made a slave? +Will you not then for me pray, + To the God whose power can save, +High and low, and bond and free? +Toil and pray and vote for me! + + + + +YE HERALDS OF FREEDOM. + +Music by Kingsley. + + +[Music] + +Ye heralds of freedom, ye noble and brave, +Who dare to insist on the rights of the slave; +Go onward, go onward, your cause is of God, +And he will soon sever the oppressor's strong rod. + +The finger of slander may now at you point, +That finger will soon lose the strength of its joint; +And those who now plead for the rights of the slave, +Will soon be acknowledged the good and the brave. + +Though thrones and dominions, and kingdoms and powers, +May now all oppose you, the victory is yours; +The banner of Jesus will soon be unfurled, +And he will give freedom and peace to the world. + +Go under his standard and fight by his side, +O'er mountains and billows you'll then safely ride. +His gracious protection will be to you given, +And bright crowns of glory he'll give you in heaven. + + + + +I would not live alway. + +BY PIERPONT. + + +I would not live alway; I ask not to stay, +Where I must bear the burden and heat of the day: +Where my body is cut with the lash or the cord, +And a hovel and hunger are all my reward. + +I would not live alway, where life is a load +To the flesh and the spirit:--since there's an abode +For the soul disenthralled, let me breathe my last +And repose in thine arms, my deliverer, Death!-- + +I would not live alway to toil as a slave: +Oh no, let me rest, though I rest in my grave; +For there, from their troubling, the wicked shall +And, free from his master, the slave be at peace. + + + + +OUR PILGRIM FATHERS. + +Words by Pierpont. Music from "Minstrel Boy," by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +Our Pilgrim Fathers--where are they? + The waves that brought them o'er, +Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray + As they break along the shore; +Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day, + When the Mayflower moored below; +When the sea around was black with storms, + And white the shore with snow. + +The mists that wrapped the Pilgrim's sleep, + Still brood upon the tide; +And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep, + To stay its waves of pride. +But the snow-white sail, that she gave to the gale + When the heavens looked dark, is gone; +As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud, + Is seen, and then withdrawn. + +The Pilgrim exile--sainted name! + The hill, whose icy brow +Rejoiced when he came in the morning's flame, + In the morning's flame burns now. +And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night, + On the hill-side and the sea, +Still lies where he laid his houseless head; + But the Pilgrim--where is he? + +The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest; + When Summer's throned on high, +And the world's warm breast is in verdure dressed, + Go, stand on the hill where they lie. +The earliest ray of the golden day, + On that hallowed spot is cast; +And the evening sun as he leaves the world, + Looks kindly on that spot last. + +The Pilgrim _spirit_ has not fled-- + It walks in noon's broad light; +And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, + With the holy stars, by night. +It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, + And shall guard this ice-bound shore, +Till the waves of the bay, where the Mayflower lay, + Shall foam and freeze no more. + + + + +STANZAS FOR THE TIMES. + +Words by J.G. Whittier. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +Is this the land our fathers loved, + The freedom which they toiled to win? +Is this the soil whereon they moved? + Are these the graves they slumber in? +Are we the sons by whom are borne, +The mantles which the dead have won? + +And shall we crouch above these graves, + With craven soul and fettered lip? +Yoke in with marked and branded slaves, + And tremble at the driver's whip? +Bend to the earth our pliant knees, +And speak--but as our masters please? + +Shall outraged Nature cease to feel? + Shall Mercy's tears no longer flow? +Shall ruffian threats of cord and steel-- + The dungeon's gloom--th' assassin's blow, +Turn back the spirit roused to save +The Truth--our Country--and the Slave? + +Of human skulls that shrine was made, + Round which the priests of Mexico +Before their loathsome idol prayed-- + Is Freedom's altar fashioned so? +And must we yield to Freedom's God +As offering meet, the negro's blood? + +Shall tongues be mute, when deeds are wrought + Which well might shame extremest Hell? +Shall freemen lock th' indignant thought? + Shall Mercy's bosom cease to swell? +Shall Honor bleed?--Shall Truth succumb? +Shall pen, and press, and soul be dumb? + +No--by each spot of haunted ground, + Where Freedom weeps her children's fall-- +By Plymouth's rock--and Bunker's mound-- + By Griswold's stained and shattered wall-- +By Warren's ghost--by Langdon's shade-- +By all the memories of our dead! + +By their enlarging souls, which burst + The bands and fetters round them set-- +By the free Pilgrim spirit nursed + Within our inmost bosoms, yet,-- +By all above--around--below-- +Be ours the indignant answer--no! + +No--guided by our country's laws, + For truth, and right, and suffering man, +Be ours to strive in Freedom's cause, + As Christians may--as freemen can! +Still pouring on unwilling ears +That truth oppression only fears. + + + + +TO THOSE I LOVE. + +Words by Miss E.M. Chandler. Music from an old air by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +Oh, turn ye not displeased away, though I should sometimes seem +Too much to press upon your ear, an oft repeated theme; +The story of the negro's wrongs is heavy at my heart, +And can I choose but wish from you a sympathizing part? + +I turn to you to share my joy,--to soothe me in my grief-- +In wayward sadness from your smiles, I seek a sweet relief: +And shall I keep this burning wish to see the slave set free, +Locked darkly in my secret heart, unshared and silently? + +If I had been a friendless thing--if I had never known, +How swell the fountains of the heart beneath affection's tone, +I might have, careless, seen the leaf torn rudely from its stem, +But clinging as I do to you, can I but feel for them? + +I could not brook to list the sad sweet music of a bird, +Though it were sweeter melody than ever ear hath heard, +If cruel hands had quenched its light, that in the plaintive song, +It might the breathing memory of other days prolong. + +And can I give my lip to taste the life-bought luxuries, wrung +From those on whom a darker night of anguish has been flung-- +Or silently and selfishly enjoy my better lot, +While those whom God hath bade me love, are wretched and forgot? + +Oh no!--so blame me not, sweet friends, though I should sometimes seem +Too much to press upon your ear an oft repeated theme; +The story of the negro's wrongs hath won me from my rest,-- +And I must strive to wake for him an interest in your breast! + + + + +WE'RE COMING! WE'RE COMING! + +Air, "Kinloch of Kinloch." + + +[Music] + +We're coming, we're coming, the fearless and free, +Like the winds of the desert, the waves of the sea! +True sons of brave sires who battled of yore, +When England's proud lion ran wild on our shore! +We're coming, we're coming, from mountain and glen, +With hearts to do battle for freedom again; +Oppression is trembling as trembled before, +The Slavery which fled from our fathers of yore. + +We're coming, we're coming, with banners unfurled, +Our motto is FREEDOM, our country the world; +Our watchword is LIBERTY--tyrants beware! +For the liberty army will bring you despair! +We're coming, we're coming, we'll come from afar, +Our standard we'll nail to humanity's car; +With shoutings we'll raise it, in triumph to wave, +A trophy of conquest, or shroud for the brave. + +Then arouse ye, brave hearts, to the rescue come on! +The man-stealing army we'll surely put down; +They are crushing their millions, but soon they must yield, +For _freemen_ have _risen_ and taken the field. +Then arouse ye! arouse ye! the fearless and free, +Like the winds of the desert, the waves of the sea; +Let the north, west, and east, to the sea-beaten shore, +_Resound_ with a _liberty triumph_ once more. + + + + +ROUSE UP, NEW ENGLAND. + +Words by a Yankee. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +Rouse up, New England! Buckle on your mail of proof sublime, +Your stern old hate of tyranny, your deep contempt of crime; +A traitor plot is hatching now, more full of woe and shame, +Than ever from the iron heart of bloodiest despot came. + +Six slave States added at a breath! One flourish of a pen, +And fetters shall be riveted on millions more of men! +One drop of ink to sign a name, and slavery shall find +For all her surplus flesh and blood, a market to her mind! + +A market where good Democrats their fellow men may sell! +O, what a grin of fiendish glee runs round and round thro' hell! +How all the damned leap up for joy and half forget their fire, +To think men take such pains to claim the notice of God's ire. + +Is't not enough that we have borne the sneer of all the world, +And bent to those whose haughty lips in scorn of us are curled? +Is't not enough that we must hunt their living chattels back, +And cheer the hungry bloodhounds on, that howl upon their track? + +Is't not enough that we must bow to all that they decree,-- +These cotton and tobacco lords, these pimps of slavery? +That we must yield our conscience up to glut Oppression's maw, +And break our faith with God to keep the letter of Man's law? + +But must we sit in silence by, and see the chain and whip +Made firmer for all time to come in Slavery's bloody grip! +Must we not only half the guilt and all the shame endure, +But help to make our tyrant's throne of flesh and blood secure? + +Is water running in our veins? Do we remember still +Old Plymouth rock, and Lexington, and glorious Bunker Hill? +The debt we owe our Father's graves? and to the yet unborn, +Whose heritage ourselves must make a thing of pride or scorn? + +Grey Plymouth rock hath yet a tongue, and Concord is not dumb, +And voices from our father's graves, and from the future come; +They call on us to stand our ground, they charge us still to be +Not only free from chains ourselves, but foremost to make free! + +Awake, New England! While you sleep the foes advance their lines; +Already on your stronghold's wall their bloody banner shines; +Awake! and hurl them back again in terror and despair, +The time has come for earnest deeds, we've not a man to spare. + + + + +RISE, FREEMEN, RISE. + +Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +Rise, freemen rise! the call goes forth, + Attend the high command; +Obedience to the word of God, + Throughout this guilty land: + Throughout this guilty land. + +Rise, free the slave; oh, burst his chains, + And cast his fetters down; +Let virtue be your country's pride, + Her diadem and crown. + +Then shall the day at length arrive, + When all shall equal be, +And Freedom's banner, waving high, + Proclaim that all are free. + + + + +Remember Me. + + +O Thou, from whom all goodness flows! + I lift my heart to thee; +In all my wrongs, oppressions, woes, + Dear Lord! remember me. + +Afflictions sore obstruct my way, + And ills I cannot flee; +Lord! let my strength be as my day, + And still remember me. + +Oppressed with scourges, bonds, and grief, + This feeble body see; +Oh! give my burdened soul relief, + Hear, and remember me. + + + + +A BEACON HAS BEEN LIGHTED. + +Parody by G.W.C. Air, "Blue-eyed Mary." + + +[Music] + +A beacon has been lighted, + Bright as the noonday sun; +On worlds of mind benighted, + Its rays are pouring down; +Full many a shrine of error, + And many a deed of shame, +Dismayed, has shrunk in terror, + Before the lighted flame. + +Chorus. + + Victorious, on, victorious! + Proud beacon onward haste; + Till floods of light all glorious, + Illume the moral waste. + +Oppression foul has foundered, + The demon gasps for breath; +His rapid march is downward, + To everlasting death. +Old age and youth united, + His works shall prostrate hurl, +And soon himself, affrighted, + Shall hurry from this world. + Victorious, on, victorious, &c. + +Proud liberty untiring, + Strikes at the monster's heart; +Beneath her blows expiring, + He dreads her well-aimed dart. +Her blows--we'll pray "God speed" them, + Oppression to despoil; +And how we fought for freedom, + Let future ages tell. + Victorious, on, victorious, &c. + + + + +OUR COUNTRYMEN IN CHAINS. + +Words by Whittier. "Beatitude," by T. Hastings. + + +[Music] + +Our fellow countrymen in chains, + Slaves in a land of light and law! +Slaves crouching on the very plains + Where rolled the storm of Freedom's war! +A groan from Eutaw's haunted wood-- + A wail where Camden's martyrs fell-- +By every shrine of patriot blood, + From Moultrie's wall and Jasper's well. + +By storied hill and hallow'd grot, + By mossy wood and marshy glen, +Whence rang of old the rifle-shot, + And hurrying shout of Marion's men! +The groan of breaking hearts is there-- + The falling lash--the fetter's clank! +Slaves--SLAVES are breathing in that air, + Which old De Kalb and Sumter drank! + +What, ho!--our countrymen in chains! + The whip on WOMAN'S shrinking flesh! +Our soil yet reddening with the stains, + Caught from her scourging, warm and fresh! +What! mothers from their children riven! + What! God's own image bought and sold! +AMERICANS to market driven, + And barter'd as the brute for gold! + +Speak! shall their agony of prayer + Come thrilling to our hearts in vain? +To us, whose fathers scorn'd to bear + The paltry menace of a chain; +To us, whose boast is loud and long + Of holy Liberty and Light-- +Say, shall these writhing slaves of wrong, + Plead vainly for their plunder'd Right? + +Shall every flap of England's flag + Proclaim that all around are free, +From "farthest Ind" to each blue crag + That beetles o'er the Western Sea? +And shall we scoff at Europe's kings, + When Freedom's fire is dim with us, +And round our country's altar clings + The damning shade of Slavery's curse? + +Just God! and shall we calmly rest, + The Christian's scorn--the Heathen's mirth-- +Content to live the lingering jest + And by-word of a mocking Earth? +Shall our own glorious land retain + That curse which Europe scorns to bear? +Shall our own brethren drag the chain + Which not even Russia's menials wear? + +Down let the shrine of Moloch sink, + And leave no traces where it stood; +No longer let its idol drink + His daily cup of human blood: +But rear another altar there, + To Truth, and Love, and Mercy given, +And Freedom's gift, and Freedom's prayer, + Shall call an answer down from Heaven! + + + + +Myron Holley. + +BY W.H. BURLEIGH. + + +Yes--fame is his:--but not the fame + For which the conqueror pants and strives, +Whose path is tracked through blood and flame, + And over countless human lives! +His name no armed battalions hail + With bugle shriek or thundering gun,-- +No widows curse him, as they wail + For slaughtered husband and for son. + +Amid the moral strife alone, + He battled fearlessly and long, +And poured, with clear, untrembling tone, + Rebuke upon the hosts of Wrong-- +To break Oppression's cruel rod, + He dared the perils of the fight, +And in the name of FREEDOM'S GOD + Struck boldly for the TRUE and RIGHT! + +With faith, whose eye was never dim, + The triumph, yet afar, he saw, +When, bonds smote off from soul and limb, + And freed alike by Love and Law, +The slave--no more a slave--shall stand + Erect--and loud, from sea to sea, +Exultant burst o'er all the land + The glorious song of jubilee! + +Why should we mourn, thy labor done, + That thou art called to thy reward; +Rest, Freedom's war-worn champion! + Rest, faithful soldier of the LORD! +For oh, not vainly hast thou striven, + Through storm, and gloom, and deepest night-- +Not vainly hath thy life been given + For GOD, for FREEDOM, and for RIGHT. + + + + +VOICE OF NEW ENGLAND AGAINST SLAVERY. + +Words by Whittier. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +Up the hill side, down the glen, +Rouse the sleeping citizen; +Summon out the might of men! +Like a lion growling low, +Like a nightstorm rising slow, +Like the tread of unseen foe. + +It is coming--it is nigh! +Stand your homes and altars by; +On your own free threshholds die. +Clang the bells in all your spires; +On the gray hills of your sires +Fling to heaven your signal fires. + +Whoso shrinks or falters now, +Whoso to the yoke would bow, +Brand the craven on his brow. +Freedom's soil hath only place +For a free and fearless race-- +None for traitors false and base. + +Take your land of sun and bloom; +Only leave to Freedom room +For her plough, and forge, and loom. +Take your slavery-blackened vales; +Leave us but our own free gales, +Blowing on our thousand sails. + +Onward with your fell design; +Dig the gulf and draw the line; +Fire beneath your feet the mine: +Deeply, when the wide abyss +Yawns between your land and this, +Shall ye feel your helplessness. + +By the hearth, and in the bed, +Shaken by a look or tread, +Ye shall own a guilty dread. +And the curse of unpaid toil, +Downward through your generous soil, +Like a fire shall burn and spoil. + +Our bleak hills shall bud and blow, +Vines our rocks shall overgrow, +Plenty in our valleys flow;-- +And when vengeance clouds your skies, +Hither shall ye turn your eyes, +As the damned on Paradise! + +We but ask our rocky strand, +Freedom's true and brother band, +Freedom's strong and honest hand, +Valleys by the slave untrod, +And the Pilgrim's mountain sod, +Blessed of our fathers' God! + + + + +THE CLARION OF FREEDOM. + +Words from the Emancipator. Music "The Chariot." + + +[Music] + +The clarion--the clarion of Freedom now sounds, +From the east to the west Independence resounds; +From the hills, and the streams, and the far distant skies, +Let the shout Independence from Slav'ry arise. + +The army--the army have taken the field, +And the Liberty hosts never, never will yield; +By free principles strengthened, each bosom now glows, +And with ardor immortal the struggle they close. + +The armor, the armor that girds every breast, +Is the hope of deliverance for millions oppressed; +O'er the tears, and the sighs, and the wrongs of the slave, +See the white flag of freedom triumphantly wave. + +The conflict--the conflict will shortly be o'er, +And the demon of slavery shall rule us no more; +And the laurels of victory shall surely reward +The heroes immortal who've conquered for God. + + + + +STRIKE FOR LIBERTY. + +Words from the Christian Freeman. Air, "Scots wha hae." + + +[Music] + +Sons of Freedom's honored sires, +Light anew your beacon fires, +Fight till every foe retires + From your hallowed soil. +Sons of Pilgrim Fathers blest, +Pilgrim Mothers gone to rest, +Listen to their high behest, + Strike for Liberty. + +Ministers of God to men, +Heed ye not the nation's sin? +Heaven's blessing can ye win + If ye falter now? +Men of blood now ask your vote, +O'er your heads their banners float; +Raise, Oh raise the warning note, + God and duty call! + +Men of justice, bold and brave, +To the ballot-box and save +Freedom from her opening grave-- + Onward! brothers, on! +Christian patriots, tried and true, +Freedom's eyes now turn to you; +Foes are many--are ye few? + Gideon's God is yours! + + + + +On to Victory. + +BY REV. MRS. MARTYN. + + +Children of the glorious dead, +Who for freedom fought and bled, +With her banner o'er you spread, + On to victory. +Not for stern ambition's prize, +Do our hopes and wishes rise; +Lo, our leader from the skies, + Bids us do or die. + +Ours is not the tented field-- +We no earthly weapons wield-- +Light and love, our sword and shield, + Truth our panoply. +This is proud oppression's hour; +Storms are round us; shall we cower? +While beneath a despot's power + Groans the suffering slave? + +While on every southern gale, +Comes the helpless captive's tale, +And the voice of woman's wail, + And of man's despair? +While our homes and rights are dear, +Guarded still with watchful fear, +Shall we coldly turn our ear + From the suppliant's prayer? + +Never! by our Country's shame-- +Never! by a Saviour's claim, +To the men of every name, + Whom he died to save. +Onward, then, ye fearless band-- +Heart to heart, and hand to hand; +Yours shall be the patriot's stand-- + Or the martyr's grave. + + + + +THE MAN FOR ME. + +Parody by J.N.T. Tucker. Air, "The Rose that all are praising." + + +[Music] + +Oh, he is not the man for me, + Who buys or sells a slave, +Nor he who will not set him free, + But sends him to his grave; +But he whose noble heart beats warm + For all men's life and liberty; +Who loves alike each human form-- + Oh that's the man for me, + Oh that's the man for me, + Oh that's the man for me. + +He's not at all the man for me, + Who sells a man for gain, +Who bends the pliant servile knee, + To Slavery's God of shame! +But he whose God-like form erect + Proclaims that all alike are free +To think, and speak, and vote, and act, + Oh that's the man for me. + +He sure is not the man for me + Whose spirit will succumb, +When men endowed with Liberty + Lie bleeding, bound and dumb; +But he whose faithful words of might + Ring through the land from shore to sea, +For man's eternal equal right, + Oh that's the man for me. + +No, no, he's not the man for me + Whose voice o'er hill and plain, +Breaks forth for glorious liberty, + But binds himself, the chain! +The mightiest of the noble band + Who prays and toils the world to free, +With head, and heart, and voice, and vote-- + Oh that's the man for me. + + + + +PILGRIM SONG. + +Words by Geo. Lunt. Air "Troubadour." + + +[Music] + +Over the mountain wave + See where they come; +Storm-cloud and wintry wind + Welcome them home; +Yet where the sounding gale + Howls to the sea, +There their song peals along, + Deep toned and free. + Pilgrims and wanderers, + Hither we come; + Where the free dare to be, + This is our home. + +England hath sunny dales, + Dearly they bloom; +Scotia hath heather-hills, + Sweet their perfume: +Yet through the wilderness + Cheerful we stray, +Native land, native land-- + Home far away! + Pilgrims, &c. + +Dim grew the forest path, + Onward they trod: +Firm beat their noble hearts, + Trusting in God! +Gray men and blooming maids, + High rose their song-- +Hear it sweep, clear and deep + Ever along! + Pilgrims, &c. + +Not theirs the glory-wreath, + Torn by the blast; +Heavenward their holy steps, + Heavenward they passed! +Green be their mossy graves! + Ours be their fame, +While their song peals along, + Ever the same! + Pilgrims, &c. + + + + +The Bondman. + +FROM THE LIBERATOR. + + +Feebly the bondman toiled, + Sadly he wept-- +Then to his wretched cot + Mournfully crept: +How doth his free-born soul + Pine 'neath his chain! +Slavery! Slavery! + Dark is thy reign. + +Long ere the break of day, + Roused from repose, +Wearily toiling + Till after its close-- +Praying for freedom, + He spends his last breath: +Liberty! Liberty! + Give me, or death. + +When, when, oh Lord! will right + Triumph o'er wrong? +Tyrants oppress the weak, + Oh Lord! how long? +Hark! hark! a peal resounds + From shore to shore-- +Tyranny! Tyranny! + Thy reign is o'er. + +E'en now the morning + Gleams from the East-- +Despots are feeling + Their triumph is past-- +Strong hearts are answering + To freedom's loud call-- +Liberty! Liberty! + Full and for all. + + + + +FOURTH OF JULY. + +Words by Mrs. Sigourney. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +We have a goodly clime, + Broad vales and streams we boast; +Our mountain frontiers frown sublime, + Old Ocean guards our coast. + +Suns bless our harvests fair, + With fervid smile serene, +But a dark shade is gathering there, + What can its blackness mean? + +We have a birth-right proud, + For our young sons to claim-- +An eagle soaring o'er the cloud, + In freedom and in fame. + +We have a scutcheon bright, + By our dead fathers bought; +A fearful blot distains its white-- + Who hath such evil wrought? + +Our banner o'er the sea + Looks forth with starry eye, +Emblazoned glorious, bold and free, + A letter on the sky-- + +What hand with shameful stain, + Hath marred its heavenly blue? +The yoke, the fasces, and the chain, + Say, are these emblems true? + +This day doth music rare + Swell through our nation's bound, +But Afric's wailing mingles there, + And Heaven doth hear the sound. + +O God of power! we turn + In penitence to thee, +Bid our loved land the lesson learn-- + To bid the slave be free. + + + + +YE SPIRITS OF THE FREE. + +Air--"My faith looks up to thee." + + +[Music] + +Ye spirits of the free, +Can ye for ever see + Your brother man +A yoked and scourged slave, +Chains dragging to his grave, +And raise no hand to save? + Say if you can. + +In pride and pomp to roll, +Shall tyrants from the soul + God's image tear, +And call the wreck their own,-- +While from th' eternal throne, +They shut the stifled groan, + And bitter prayer? + +Shall he a slave be bound, +Whom God hath doubly crowned + Creation's lord? +Shall men of Christian name, +Without a blush of shame, +Profess their tyrant claim + From God's own word? + +No! at the battle cry, +A host prepared to die, + Shall arm for fight-- +But not with martial steel, +Grasped with a murderous zeal; +No arms their foes shall feel, + But love and light. + +Firm on Jehovah's laws, +Strong in their righteous cause, + They march to save. +And vain the tyrant's mail, +Against their battle-hail, +Till cease the woe and wail + Of tortured slave! + + + + +Sing Me a Triumph Song. + + +Sing me a triumph song, +Roll the glad notes along, + Great God, to thee! +Thine be the glory bright, +Source of all power and might! +For thou hast said, in might, + Man shall be free. + +Sing me a triumph song, +Let all the sound prolong, + Air, earth, and sea, +Down falls the tyrant's power, +See his dread minions cower; +Now, from this glorious hour, + Man will be free. + +Sing me a triumph song, +Sing in the mighty throng, + Sing Jubilee! +Let the broad welkin ring, +While to heaven's mighty King, +Honor and praise we sing, + For man is free. + + + + +WAKE, SONS OF THE PILGRIMS. + +Air--"M'Gregor's Gathering." + + +[Music] + +Wake, sons of the Pilgrims, and look to your right! +The despots of Slav'ry are up in their might: +Indulge not in sleep, it's like digging the graves +Of blood-purchased freedom--'tis yielding like slaves. +Then halloo, halloo, halloo to the contest, +Awake from your slumbers, no longer delay, +But struggle for freedom, while struggle you may-- +Then rally, rally, rally, rally, rally, rally, +While our forests shall wave or while rushes a river, +Oh, yield not your birth-right! maintain it for ever! + +Wake, Sons of the Pilgrims! why slumber ye on? +Your chains are now forging, your fetters are done; +Oh! sleep not, like Samson, on Slavery's foul arm, +For, Delilah-like, she's now planning your harm. +Then halloo, halloo, halloo, to the contest! +Awake from your sleeping--nor slumber again, +Once bound in your fetters, you'll struggle in vain; +While your eye-balls may move, O wake up now, or never-- +Wake, freemen! awake, or you're ruined forever! + +Yes, freemen are waking! we fling to the breeze, +The bright flag of freedom, the banner of Peace; +The slave long forgotten, forlorn, and alone, +We hail as a brother--our own mother's son! +Then halloo, halloo, halloo, to the contest! +For freedom we rally--for freedom to all-- +To rescue the slave, and ourselves too from thrall. +We rally, rally, rally, rally, rally, rally-- +While a slave shall remain, bound, the weak by the stronger, +We will never disband, but strive harder and longer. + + + + +OUR COUNTRYMEN ARE DYING. + +Words by C.W. Dennison. Tune--"From Greenland's Icy Mountains." + + +[Music] + +Our countrymen are dying + Beneath their cankering chains, +Full many a heart is sighing, + Where nought but slav'ry reigns; +No note of joy and gladness, + No voice with freedom's lay, +Fall on them in their sadness, + To wipe those tears away. + +Where proud Potomac dashes + Along its northern strand, +Where Rappahannock lashes + Virginia's sparkling sand; +Where Eutaw, famed in story, + Flows swift to Santee's stream, +There, there in grief and gory, + The pining slave is seen! + +And shall New England's daughters, + Descendants of the free, +Beside whose far-famed waters + Is heard sweet minstrelsy-- +Shall they, when hearts are breaking, + And woman weeps in woe, +Shall they, all listless waiting, + No hearts of pity show. + +No! let the shout for freedom + Ring out a certain peal, +Let sire and youthful maiden, + All who have hearts to feel, +Awake! and with the blessing + Of Him who came to save, +A holy, peaceful triumph, + Shall greet the kneeling slave! + + + + +We ask not Martial Glory. + + +We ask not "martial glory," + Nor "battles bravely won;" +We tell no boastful story + To laud our "favorite son;" +We do not seek to gather + From glory's field of blood, +The laurels of the warrior, + Steeped in the crimson flood-- + +But we can boast that Birney + Holds not the tyrant's rod, +Nor binds in chains and fetters, + The image of his God; +No vassal, at his bidding, + Is doomed the lash to feel; +No menial crouches near him, + No Charley's[3] at his heel. + +His heart is free from murder, + His hand without its stain; +His head and heart united, + To loose the bondman's chain: +His deeds of noble daring, + Shall make the tyrant cower; +Oppression flees before him, + With all its boasted power. + +Soon shall the voice of freedom, + O'er earth its echoes roll-- +And earth's rejoicing millions + Be free, from pole to pole. +Then rally round your leader, + Ye friends of liberty; +And let the shout for Birney, + Ring out o'er land and sea. + +[Footnote 3: Clay's body servant.] + + + + +COME, JOIN THE ABOLITIONISTS. + +Air--"When I can read my title clear." + + +[Music] + +Come, join the Abolitionists, + Ye young men bold and strong, +And with a warm and cheerful zeal, + Come, help the cause along: +Come help the cause along, +Come help the cause along; +And with a warm and cheerful zeal, +Come, help the cause along. +Oh that will be joyful, joyful, joyful, +Oh that will be joyful, +When Slav'ry is no more, +When Slav'ry is no more, +When Slav'ry is no more: +'Tis then we'll sing, and off'rings bring, +When Slav'ry is no more. + +Come, join the Abolitionists, + Ye men of riper years, +And save your wives and children dear, + From grief and bitter tears: +From grief and bitter tears, +From grief and bitter tears; +And save your wives and children dear, +From grief and bitter tears. +Oh that will be joyful, joyful, joyful, +Oh that will be joyful, +When Slav'ry is no more, +When Slav'ry is no more, +When Slav'ry is no more: +'Tis then we'll sing, and off'rings bring, +When Slav'ry is no more. + +Come join the Abolitionists, + Ye dames and maidens fair; +And breathe around us in our path, + Affection's hallowed air. +O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful, +O that will be joyful, +When woman cheers us on, +When woman cheers us on, +When woman cheers us on, +To conquests not yet won; +'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring, +When woman cheers us on. + +Come, join the Abolitionists, + Ye sons and daughters all; +Of this our own America, + Come at the friendly call. +O that will be joyful, joyful, +O that will be joyful, +When all shall proudly say, +This, this is Freedom's day, +Oppression flee away! +'Tis then we'll sing and offerings bring, +When Freedom wins the day. + + + + +WE ARE COME, ALL COME. + +By G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +We are come, all come, with the crowded throng, +To join our notes in a plaintive song; +For the bond man sighs, and the scalding tear +Runs down his cheek while we mingle here. + +We are come, all come, with a hallowed vow, +At the shrine of slavery never to bow, +For the despot's reign o'er hill and plain, +Spreads grief and woe in his horrid train. + +We are come, all come, a determined band, +To rescue the slave from the tyrant's hand; +And our prayers shall ascend with our songs to Him +Who sits in the midst of the cherubim. + +We are come, all come, in the strength of youth, +In the light of hope and the power of truth; +And we joy to see in our ranks to-day, +The honored locks of the good and grey. + +We are come, all come, in our holy might, +And freedom's foes shall be put to flight; +Oh God! with favoring smiles from thee, +Our songs shall soon chant the victory. + + + + +THE LAW OF LOVE. + +Words by a Lady. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +Blest is the man whose tender heart + Feels all another's pain, +To whom the supplicating eye + Was never raised in vain, + Was never raised in vain. + +Whose breast expands with generous warmth, + A stranger's woe to feel, +And bleeds in pity o'er the wound, + He wants the power to heal, + He wants the power to heal. + +He spreads his kind supporting arms, + To every child of grief; +His secret bounty largely flows, + And brings unasked relief. + +To gentle offices of love + His feet are never slow; +He views, through mercy's melting eye, + A brother in his foe. + +To him protection shall be shown, + And mercy from above +Descend on those, who thus fulfil + The perfect law of love. + + + + +Oh! Charity! + + +Oh charity! thou heavenly grace, + All tender, soft, and kind, +A friend to all the human race, + To all that's good inclined. + +The man of charity extends + To all his helping hand; +His kindred, neighbors, foes, and friends, + His pity may command. + +The sick, the prisoner, deaf, and blind, + And all the sons of grief, +In him a benefactor find; + He loves to give relief. + +'Tis love that makes religion sweet + 'Tis love that makes us rise; +With willing minds, and ardent feet, + To yonder happy skies. + + + + +THE MERCY SEAT. + +Words by Mrs. Sigourney. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +From every stormy wind that blows, +From every swelling tide of woes, +There is a calm, a sure retreat-- +Our refuge is the Mercy-seat. + +There is a place where Jesus sheds +The oil of gladness on our heads, +A place than all beside more sweet-- +We seek the blood-bought Mercy-seat. + +There is a spot where spirits blend, +Where friend holds fellowship with friend; +Though sundered far, by faith we meet, +Around one common Mercy-Seat. + +Ah! whither could we flee for aid, +When hunted, scourged, oppressed, dismayed,-- +Or how our bloody foes defeat, +Had suffering slaves no Mercy-Seat! + +Oh! let these hands forget their skill, +These tongues be silent, cold, and still, +These throbbing hearts forget to beat, +If we forget the Mercy-Seat. + + + + +Friend of the Friendless. + + +God of my life! to thee I call, +Afflicted at thy feet I fall; +When the great water-floods prevail, +Leave not my trembling heart to fail. + +Friend of the friendless and the faint! +Where should I lodge my deep complaint? +Where but with thee, whose open door +Invites the helpless and the poor? + +Did ever mourner plead with thee, +And thou refuse that mourner's plea? +Does not thy word still fixed remain, +That none shall seek thy face in vain? + +Poor though I am, despised, forgot, +Yet God, my God forgets me not; +And he is safe, he must succeed, +For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead. + + + + +WAKE YE NUMBERS! + +Words by Lewis. Air, "Strike the Cymbals." + + +[Music] + +Wake ye numbers! from your slumbers + Hear the song of freedom pour! +By its shaking, fiercely breaking, + Every chain upon our shore. +Flags are waving, all tyrants braving, + Proudly, freely, o'er our plains; +Let no minions check our pinions, + While a single grief remains. +Proud oblations, thou Queen of nations! + Have been poured upon they waters; + Afric's bleeding sons and daughters, +Now before us, loud implore us, + Looking to Jehovah's throne, +Chains are wearing, hearts despairing, + Will ye hear a nation's moan? +Soothe their sorrow, ere the morrow + Change their aching hearts to stone: +Then the light of nature's smile +Freedom's realm shall bless the while; +And the pleasure mercy brings +Flow from all her latent springs; +Delight shall spread, shall spread her shining wings, + Rejoicing, Rejoicing, Rejoicing. + +Daily, nightly, burning brightly, + Glory's pillar fills the air; +Hearts are waking, chains are breaking, + Freedom bids her sons prepare: +O'er the ocean, in proud devotion, + Incense rises to the skies; +From our mountains, o'er our fountains, + See, our Eagle proudly flies! +What deploring impedes his soaring? + Millions still in bondage sighing! + Long in deep oppression lying! +Shall their story mar our glory? + Must their life in sorrow flow? +Tears are falling! fetters galling! + Listen to the cry of woe! +Still oppressing! never blessing! + Shall their grief no ending know? +Yes! our nation yet shall feel; +Time shall break the chain of steel; +Then the slave shall nobly stand; +Peace shall smile with lustre bland; +Glory shall crown our happy land-- + Forever. + + + + +COMFORT FOR THE BONDMAN. + +Air--"Indian Philosopher." + + +[Music] + +Come on, my partners in distress, +My comrades in this wilderness, + Who groan beneath your chains; +A while forget your griefs and fears, +And look beyond this vale of tears, + To yon celestial plains. + +Beyond the bounds of time and space, +Look forward to that heavenly place, + Which mortals never trod; +On faith's strong eagle pinions rise, +Work out your passage to the skies, + And scale the mount of God. + +If, like our Lord, we suffer here, +We shall before his face appear, + And at his side sit down; +To patient faith the prize is sure, +For all who to the end endure + Shall wear a glorious crown. + +Thrice blessed, exalted, blissful hope! +It lifts our fainting spirits up, + It brings to life the dead; +Our bondage here will soon be past, +Then we shall rise and reign at last, + Triumphant with our Head. + + + + +Come and see the Works of God. + + +Lift up to God the shout of joy, +Let all the earth its powers employ, + To sound his glorious praise; +Say, unto God--"How great art thou! +Thy foes before thy presence bow! + How gracious are thy ways! + +"To thee all lands their homage bring, +They raise the song, they shout, they sing + The honors of thy name." +Come! see the wondrous works of God; +How dreadful is his vengeful rod! + How wide extends his fame! + +He made a highway through the sea, +His people, long-enslaved, to free, + And give them Canaan's land; +Through endless years his reign extends, +His piercing eye to earth he bends-- + Ye despots! fear his hand. + +O! bless our God, lift up your voice +Ye people! sing aloud--rejoice-- + His mighty praise declare; +The Lord hath made our bondage cease, +Broke off our chains, brought sure release, + And turned to praise our prayer. + + + + +HARK! A VOICE FROM HEAVEN. + +Words by Oliver Johnson. Music--"Zion." + + +[Music] + +Hark! a voice from heaven proclaiming, + Comfort to the mourning slave; +God has heard him long complaining, + And extends his arm to save; + Proud oppression + Soon shall find a shameful grave; + Proud oppression, + Soon shall find a shameful end. + +See, the light of truth is breaking + Full and clear on every hand; +And the voice of mercy speaking, + Now is heard through all the land: + Firm and fearless, + See the friends of freedom stand. + +Lo! the nation is arousing + From its slumber long and deep; +And the friends of God are waking, + Never, never more to sleep, + While a bondman, + In his chains remains to weep. + +Long, too long, have we been dreaming + O'er our country's sin and shame: +Let us now, the time redeeming, + Press the helpless captive's claim-- + Till exulting, + He shall cast aside his chain. + + + + +THE PLEASANT LAND WE LOVE. + +Words by N.P. Willis. Air, Carrier Dove. + + +[Music] + +Joy to the pleasant land we love, + The land our fathers trod! +Joy to the land for which they won + "Freedom to worship God." +For peace on all its sunny hills, + On every mountain broods, +And sleeps by all its gushing rills, + And all its mighty floods. + +The wife sits meekly by the hearth, + Her infant child beside; +The father on his noble boy + Looks with a fearless pride. +The grey old man, beneath the tree, + Tales of his childhood tells; +And sweetly in the hush of morn + Peal out the Sabbath bells. + +And we ARE free--but is there not + One blot upon our name? +Is our proud record written fair + Upon the scroll of fame? +Our banner floateth by the shore, + Our flag upon the sea; +But when the fettered slave is loosed, + We shall be truly free! + + + + +The Freed Slave. + + +Yet once again, once more again, + My bark bounds o'er the wave; +They know not, who ne'er clanked the chain, + What 'tis to be a slave: +To sit alone, beside the wood, + And gaze upon the sky: +This may, indeed, be solitude, + But 'tis not slavery. + +Fatigued with labor's noontide task, + To sigh in vain for sleep; +Or faintly smile, our griefs to mask, + When 't would be joy to weep; +To court the shade of leafy bower, + Thirst for the freedom wave, +But to obtain denied the power-- + This is to be a slave! + +Son of the sword! on honor's field + 'Tis thine to find a grave; +Yet, when from life's worst ill 'twould shield, + It comes not to the slave. +The lightsome to the heavy heart, + The laugh changed to the sigh; +To live from all we love apart-- + Oh! this is slavery. + + + + +The Liberty Flag. + +ALTERED FROM J.H. AIKMAN. + + +Fling abroad its folds to the cooling breeze, + Let it float at the mast-head high; +And gather around, all hearts resolved, + To sustain it there or die: +An emblem of peace and hope to the world, + Unstained let it ever be; +And say to the world, where'er it waves, + Our flag is the flag of the free! + +That banner proclaims to the list'ning earth, + That the reign of base tyrants is o'er, +The galling chain of the cruel lord, + Shall enslave mankind no more: +An emblem of hope to the poor and crushed, + O place it where all may see; +And shout with glad voice as you raise it high, + Our flag is the flag of the free! + +Then on high, on high let that banner wave, + And lead us the foe to meet, +Let it float in triumph o'er our heads, + Or be our winding sheet; +And never, oh, never be it furled, + 'Till it wave o'er earth and sea; +And all mankind shall swell the shout + Our flag is the flag of the free. + + + + +MARCH TO THE BATTLEFIELD. + +Parody by G.W.C. Air "Oft in the stilly night." + + +[Music] + +March to the battlefield, + The foe is now before us; +Each heart is freedom's shield, + And heaven is smiling o'er us. +The woes and pains of slavery's chains, + That bind three millions under; +In proud disdain we'll burst their chain, + And tear each link asunder. + +Who for his country brave, + Would fly from her invader? +Who his base life to save + Would traitor like degrade her? +Our hallowed cause-- + Our homes and laws, +'Gainst tyrant hosts sustaining, + We'll win a crown of bright renown, +Or die, man's rights maintaining, + March to the battlefield, &c. + + + + +Oft in the Chilly Night. + +BY PIERPONT. + + +Oft in the chilly night, + Ere slumber's chain has bound me, +When all her silvery light + The moon is pouring round me, +Beneath its ray I kneel and pray + That God would give some token +That slavery's chains on Southern plains, + Shall all ere long be broken: +Yes, in the chilly night, + Though slavery's chain has bound me, +Kneel I, and feel the might + Of God's right arm around me. + +When at the driver's call, + In cold or sultry weather, +We slaves, both great and small, + Turn out to toil together, +I feel like one from whom the sun + Of hope has long departed; +And morning's light, and weary night, + Still find me broken hearted: +Thus, when the chilly breath + Of night is sighing round me, +Kneel I, and wish that death + In his cold chain had bound me. + + + + +SONG OF THE FREE. + +Parodied by G.W.C. Tune, Lutzow's Wild Hunt. + + +[Music] + +From valley and mountain, from hilltop and glen, + What shouts thro' the air are rebounding! +And echo is sending the sounds back again, + And loud thro' the air they are sounding, + And loud through the air they are sounding: +And if you ask what those joyous strains? + 'Tis the songs of bondmen now bursting their chains. + +And who through our nation is waging the fight? + What host from the battle is flying? +Our true hearted freemen maintain the right, + And the monster oppression is dying, + And the monster oppression is dying: +And if you ask what you there behold? +'Tis the army of freemen, the true and the bold. + +Too long have slave-holders triumphantly reigned, + Too long in their chains have they bound us; +To freedom awaking, no longer enchained, + The goddess of freedom has saved us, + The goddess of freedom has saved us: +And if you ask what has made us free? +'Tis the vote that gave us our liberty. + + + + +Holy Freedom. + +BY PIERPONT. + + +The bondmen are free in the isles of the main! + The chains from their limbs they are flinging! +They stand up as men!--never tyrant again, + In the pride of his heart, shall God's image profane! + It is Liberty's song that is ringing! +Hark! loud comes the cry o'er the bounding sea, + "Freedom! Freedom! Freedom, our joy is in thee!" + +Alas! that to-day, on Columbia's shore, + The groans of her slaves are resounding! +On plains of the South their life-blood they pour! +O, Freemen! blest Freemen! your help they implore! + It is Slavery's wail that is sounding! +Hark! loud comes the cry on the Southern gale, +"Freedom! Freedom! Freedom or death, must prevail!" + +O ye who are blest with fair Liberty's light, + With courage and hope all abounding, +With weapons of love be ye bold for the right! +By the preaching of truth put oppression to flight! + Then, your altars triumphant surrounding, +Loud, loud let the anthem of joy ring out! +"Freedom! Freedom!" list all the world to the shout! + + + + +YE SONS OF FREEMEN. + +Words by Mrs. J.G. Carter. Air, "Marseilles Hymn." + + +[Music] + + Ye sons of freemen wake to sadness, + Hark! hark, what myriads bid you rise; + Three millions of our race in madness + Break out in wails, in bitter cries, + Break out in wails, in bitter cries; + Must men whose hearts now bleed with anguish, + Yes, trembling slaves, in freedom's land + Endure the lash, nor raise a hand? + Must nature 'neath the whip-cord languish? + Have pity on the slave, + Take courage from God's word; +Pray on, pray on, all hearts resolved, these captives shall be free. + + The fearful storm--it threatens lowering, + Which God in mercy long delays; + Slaves yet may see their masters cowering, + While whole plantations smoke and blaze! + While whole plantations smoke and blaze! + And we may now prevent the ruin, + Ere lawless force with guilty stride + Shall scatter vengeance far and wide-- + With untold crimes their hands embruing. + Have pity on the slave; + Take courage from God's word; +Pray, on, pray on, all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free! + + With luxury and wealth surrounded, + The southern masters proudly dare, + With thirst of gold and power unbounded, + To mete and vend God's light and air! + To mete and vend God's light and air; + Like beasts of burden, slaves are loaded, + Till life's poor toilsome day is o'er; + While they in vain for right implore; + And shall they longer still be goaded? + Have pity on the slave; + Take courage from God's word; +Toil on, toil on, all hearts resolved these captives shall be free. + + O Liberty! can man e'er bind thee? + Can overseers quench thy flame? + Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee, + Or threats thy Heaven born spirit tame? + Or threats thy Heaven born spirit tame? + Too long the slave has groaned bewailing + The power these heartless tyrants wield; + Yet free them not by sword or shield, + For with men's heart's they're unavailing, + Have pity on the slave: + Take courage from God's word; +Vote on! vote on! all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free! + + + + +ARE YE TRULY FREE? + +Words by J.R. Lowell. Air, "Martyn." + + +[Music] + +Men! whose boast it is that ye +Come of fathers brave and free; +If there breathe on earth a slave, +Are ye truly free and brave? +Are ye not base slaves indeed, +Men unworthy to be freed? +If ye do not feel the chain, +When it works a brother's pain? + +Women! who shall one day bear +Sons to breathe God's bounteous air, +If ye hear without a blush, +Deeds to make the roused blood rush +Like red lava through your veins, +For your sisters now in chains; +Answer! are ye fit to be +Mothers of the brave and free? + +Is true freedom but to break +Fetters for our own dear sake, +And, with leathern hearts forget +That we owe mankind a debt? +No! true freedom is to share +All the chains our brothers wear, +And with hand and heart to be +Earnest to make others free. + +They are slaves who fear to speak +For the fallen and the weak; +They are slaves, who will not choose +Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, +Rather than, in silence, shrink +From the truth they needs must think; +They are slaves, who dare not be +In the right with _two_ or _three_. + + + + +That's my Country. + + +Does the land, in native might, +Pant for Liberty and Right? +Long to cast from human kind +Chains of body and of mind-- +That's my country, that's the land +I can love with heart and hand, +O'er her miseries weep and sigh, +For her glory live and die. + +Does the land her banner wave, +Most invitingly, to save; +Wooing to her arms of love, +Strangers who would freemen prove? +That's the land to which I cling, +Of her glories I can sing, +On her altar nobly swear +Higher still her fame to rear. + +Does the land no conquest make, +But the war for honor's sake-- +Count the greatest triumph won, +That which most of good has done-- +That's the land approved of God; +That's the land whose stainless sod +O'er my sleeping dust shall bloom, +Noblest land and noblest tomb! + + + + +LIBERTY BATTLE-SONG. + +From "The Emancipator." Air--"Our Warrior's Heart." + + +[Music] + +Arouse, ye friends of law and right, + Arouse, arouse, arouse! +All who in Freedom's cause delight, + Arouse, arouse, arouse! +The time, the time, is drawing near, +When we must at our posts appear; +Then clear the decks for action, clear! + Arouse, arouse, arouse! + +Awake, and couch Truth's fatal dart + Awake! awake! awake! +Bid error to the shades depart, + Awake! awake! awake! +Prepare to deal the deadly blow, +To lay the power of Slavery low, +A ballot, lads, is our veto; + Awake! awake! awake! + +Arise! ye sons of honest toil, + Arise! arise! arise! +Ye free-born tillers of the soil, + Arise! arise! arise! +Come from your workshops and the field, +We've sworn to conquer ere we'll yield; +The ballot-box is Freedom's shield, + Arise! arise! arise! + +Unite, and strike for equal laws, + Unite! unite! unite! +For equal Justice! that's our cause + Unite! unite! unite! +Shall the vile slavites win the day? +Shall men of whips and blood bear sway? +Unite, and dash their chains away, + Unite! unite! unite! + +March on! and vote the hireling down, + March on! march on! march on! +Our blighted land with blessings crown, + March on! march on! march on! +Shall Manhood ever wear the chain? +Shall Freedom look to us in vain? +Up to the struggle! Strike again! + March on! march on! march on! + +Hurrah! the word pass down the line, + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +Birney's and Morris' name shall shine, + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +Like comets, on their country's page, +Without a cloud, undimmed by age, +Revered by patriot and by sage; + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! + + + + +Birney and Liberty. + + +Hurrah! the ball is rolling on, + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +In spite of whig or loco don, + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +Our country still has hopes to rise, +The bravest efforts win the prize, + Hurrah! &c. + +With joy elate our friends appear, + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +Our vaunting foes are filled with fear, + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +Ten thousand slaves have run away +From Georgia to Canada; + Hurrah! &c. + +Lo! all the world for Birney now, + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +See! as he comes the parties bow, + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +No iron mixed with miry clay, +Will ever do, the people say, + Hurrah! &c. + +Then up, ye hearties, one and all! + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +Be faithful to your country's call; + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +Let none the vote of freedom shun, +Run to the meeting--run, run, run! + Hurrah, &c. + +Be Birney's name the one you choose, + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +Let not a soul his ballot lose, + Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! +No other man in this our day +Will ever do, the people say: + Hurrah! &c. + + + + +THE BALLOT-BOX. + +Air--from "Lincoln." + + +[Music] + +Freedom's consecrated dower, + Casket of a priceless gem! +Nobler heritage of power, + Than imperial diadem! +Corner-stone, on which was reared, + Liberty's triumphal dome, +When her glorious form appeared, + 'Midst our own Green Mountain home. + +Guard it, Freemen! guard it well, + Spotless as your maiden's fame! +Never let your children tell + Of your weakness, of your shame; +That their fathers basely sold, + What was bought with blood and toil, +That you bartered right for gold, + Here, on Freedom's sacred soil. + +Let your eagle's quenchless eye, + Fixed, unerring, sleepless, bright, +Watch, when danger hovers nigh, + From his lofty mountain height; +While the stripes and stars shall wave + O'er this treasure, pure and free-- +The land's Palladium, it shall save + The home and shrine of liberty. + + + + +Christian Mother. + +BY MISS C. + + +Christian mother, when thy prayer, +Trembles on the twilight air, +And thou askest God to keep +In their waking and their sleep, +Those, whose love is more to thee +Than the wealth of land or sea-- +Think of those who wildly mourn +For the loved ones from them torn. + +Christian daughter, sister, wife, +Ye who wear a guarded life, +Ye, whose bliss hangs not, thank God, +On a tyrant's word or nod, +Will ye hear, with careless eye, +Of the wild, despairing cry, +Rising up from human hearts, +As their latest bliss departs. + +Blest ones, whom no hands on earth, +Dare to wrench from home and hearth, +Ye, whose hearts are sheltered well, +By affection's holy spell; +Oh, forget not those for whom +Life is nought but changeless gloom! +O'er whose days, so woe-begone, +Hope may paint no brighter dawn. + + + + +THE LIBERTY PARTY. + +Words by E. Wright, jr. Tune--"'Tis Dawn, the Lark is Singing." + + +[Music] + +Will ye despise the acorn, + Just thrusting out its shoot, +Ye giants of the forest, + That strike the deepest root? +Will ye despise the streamlets + Upon the mountain side; +Ye broad and mighty rivers, + On sweeping to the tide? + +Wilt thou despise the crescent, + That trembles, newly born, +Thou bright and peerless planet, + Whose reign shall reach the morn? +Time now his scythe is whetting, + Ye giant oaks, for you; +Ye floods, the sea is thirsting, + To drink you like the dew. + +That crescent, faint and trembling, + Her lamp shall nightly trim, +Till thou, imperious planet, + Shall in her light grow dim; +And so shall wax the Party, + Now feeble at its birth, +Till Liberty shall cover + This tyrant trodden earth. + +That party, as we term it, + The Party of the Whole-- +Has for its firm foundation, + The substance of the soul; +It groweth out of Reason, + The strongest soil below; +The smaller is its budding, + The more its room to grow! + +Then rally to its banners, + Supported by the true-- +The weakest are the waning, + The many are the few: +Of what is small, but living, + God makes himself the nurse; +While "Onward" cry the voices + Of all his universe. + +Our plant is of the cedar, + That knoweth not decay: +Its growth shall bless the mountains, + Till mountains pass away. +God speed the infant party, + The party of the whole-- +And surely he will do it, + While reason is its soul. + + + + +BE FREE, O MAN, BE FREE. + +Words by Mary H. Maxwell. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +The storm-winds wildly blowing, + The bursting billows mock, +As with their foam-crests glowing, + They dash the sea-girt rock; +Amid the wild commotion, + The revel of the sea, +A voice is on the ocean, + Be free, O man, be free. + +Behold the sea-brine leaping + High in the murky air; +List to the tempest sweeping + In chainless fury there. +What moves the mighty torrent, + And bids it flow abroad? +Or turns the rapid current? + What, but the voice of God? + +Then, answer, is the spirit + Less noble or less free? +From whom does it inherit + The doom of slavery? +When man can bind the waters, + That they no longer roll, +Then let him forge the fetters + To clog the human soul. + +Till then a voice is stealing + From earth and sea, and sky, +And to the soul revealing + Its immortality. +The swift wind chants the numbers + Careering o'er the sea, +And earth aroused from slumbers, + Re-echoes, "Man, be free." + + + + +Arouse! Arouse! + + +Arouse, arouse, arouse! + Ye bold New England men! +No more with sullen brows, + Remain as ye have been: +Your country's freedom calls, + Once bought by patriots' blood; +Rouse, or that freedom falls + Beneath the tyrant's rod! + +Three million men in chains, + Your friendly aid implore; +Slight you the piteous strains + That from their bosoms pour? +Shall it be told in story, + Or troll'd in burning song, +New England's boasted glory + Forgot the bondman's wrong? + +Shall freeman's sons be taunted, + That freedom's spirit's fled; +That what the fathers vaunted, + With sordid sons is dead? +That they in grovelling gain + Have lost their ancient fire, +And 'neath the despot's chain, + Let liberty expire? + +Oh no, your father's bones + Would cry out from the ground; +Ay, e'en New England's stones + Would echo on the sound: +Rouse, then, New England men! + Rally in freedom's name! +In your bosoms once again + Light up the sleeping flame! + + + + +THE LAST NIGHT OF SLAVERY. + +Tune--"Cherokee Death-song." + + +[Music] + + Let the floods clap their hands, + Let the mountains rejoice, + Let all the glad lands + Breathe a jubilant voice; +The sun that now sets on the waves of the sea +Shall gild with his rising the land of the free. + + Let the islands be glad! + For their King in his might, + Who his glory hath clad + With a garment of light, +In the waters the beams of his chambers hath laid, +And in the green waters his pathway hath made. + + No more shall the deep, + Lend its awe-stricken waves, + In their caverns to steep + Its wild burden of slaves; +The Lord sitteth King--sitteth King on the flood, +He heard, and hath answered the voice of their blood. + + Dispel the blue haze, + Golden fountain of morn! + With meridian blaze + The wide ocean adorn: +The sunlight has touched the glad waves of the sea, +And day now illumines the land of the free. + + + + +THE LITTLE SLAVE GIRL. + +Words by a Lady. Air--Morgiana in Ireland. + + +[Music] + +When bright morning lights the hills, + Where free children sing most cheerily, +My young breast with sorrow fills, + While here I plod my way so wearily: + Sad my face, more sad my heart, +From home, from all I had to part, +A loving mother, my sister, my brother, +For chains and lash in hopeless misery, + Children try it, could you try it; +But one day to live in slavery, + Children try it, try it, try it; +Come, come, give me liberty. + +Ere I close my eyes to sleep, + Thoughts of home keep coming over me; +All alone I wake and weep-- + Yet mother hears not--no one pities me-- + Never smiling, sick, forlorn, +Oh that I had ne'er been born! +I should not sorrow to die to-morrow, +Then mother earth would kindly shelter me; + Children try it, could you try it! +Give me freedom, yes, from misery! + Children try it, try it, try it! +Come, come, give me Liberty! + + + + +STOLEN WE WERE. + +Words by a Colored Man. + + +[Music] + +Stolen we were from Africa, +Transported to America; +It's work all day and half the night, +And rise before the morning light; + Sinner! man! why don't you repent? + For the judgment is rolling around! + For the judgment is rolling around! + +Like the brute beast in public street, +Endure the cold and stand the heat; +King Jesus told you once before +To go your way and sin no more; + Sinner! man! &c. + +If e'er I reach the Northern shore, +I'll ne'er go back, no, never more; +I think I hear these ladies say, +We'll sing for Freedom night and day; + Sinner! man! &c. + +Now let us all, yes, every man, +Vote for the Slave, for now we can; +Break every chain and every yoke, +Vote not for Clay nor James K. Polk; + Sinner! man! &c. + +Come let us go for James G. Birney, +Who sells not flesh and blood for money; +He is the man you all can see, +Who gave his slaves their liberty; + Sinner! man! &c. + +We hail thee as an honest Man, +God made thee on his noblest plan; +To stand for freedom in that hour, +To thrust a blow at Slavery's power; + Sinner! man! &c. + + + + +A VISION.[4] + +Words by Crary. Music by G.W.C. + +[Footnote 4: Scene in the nether world--purporting to be a +conversation between the departed ghost of a Southern slaveholding +clergyman, and the devil!] + + +[Music] + +At dead of night, when others sleep, + Near Hell I took my station; +And from that dungeon, dark and deep, + O'erheard this conversation: +"Hail, Prince of Darkness, ever hail, + Adored by each infernal, +I come among your gang to wail, + And taste of death eternal." + +"Where are you from?" the fiend demands, + "What makes you look so frantic? +Are you from Carolina's strand, + Just west of the Atlantic? +Are you that man of blood and birth, + Devoid of human feeling? +The wretch I saw, when last on earth, + In human cattle dealing? + +"Whose soul, with blood and rapine stain'd, + With deeds of crime to dark it; +Who drove God's image, starved and chained, + To sell like beasts in market? +Who tore the infant from the breast, + That you might sell its mother? +Whose craving mind could never rest, + Till you had sold a brother? + +"Who gave the sacrament to those + Whose chains and handcuffs rattle? +Whose backs soon after felt the blows, + More heavy than thy cattle?" +"I'm from the South," the ghost replies, + "And I was there a teacher; +Saw men in chains, with laughing eyes: + I was a Southern Preacher! + +"In tassled pulpits, gay and fine, + I strove to please the tyrants, +To prove that slavery is divine, + And what the Scripture warrants. +And when I saw the horrid sight, + Of slaves by tortures dying, +And told their masters all was right, + I knew that I was lying. + +"I knew all this, and who can doubt, + I felt a sad misgiving? +But still, I knew, if I spoke out, + That I should lose my living. +They made me fat, they paid me well, + To preach down abolition, +I slept--I died--I woke in Hell, + How altered my condition! + +"I now am in a sea of fire, + Whose fury ever rages; +I am a slave, and can't get free, + Through everlasting ages. +Yes! when the sun and moon shall fade, + And fire the rocks dissever, +I must sink down beneath the shade, + And feel God's wrath for ever." + +Our Ghost stood trembling all the while-- + He saw the scene transpiring; +With soul aghast and visage sad, + All hope was now retiring. +The Demon cried, on vengeance bent, + "I say, in haste, retire! +And you shall have a negro sent + To attend and punch the fire." + + + + +GET OFF THE TRACK. + +Words by Jesse Hutchinson. Air, "Dan Tucker." + + +[Music] + +Ho! the car Emancipation +Rides majestic thro' our nation, +Bearing on its train the story, +Liberty! a nation's glory. + Roll it along, roll it along, roll it along, thro' the nation, + Freedom's car, Emancipation! + +Men of various predilections, +Frightened, run in all directions; +Merchants, editors, physicians, +Lawyers, priests, and politicians. + Get out of the way! every station! + Clear the track of 'mancipation! + +Let the ministers and churches +Leave behind sectarian lurches; +Jump on board the Car of Freedom, +Ere it be too late to need them. + Sound the alarm! Pulpits thunder! + Ere too late you see your blunder! + +Politicians gazed, astounded, +When, at first, our bell resounded: +_Freight trains_ are coming, tell these foxes, +With our _votes_ and _ballot boxes_. + Jump for your lives! politicians, + From your dangerous, false positions. + +Railroads to Emancipation +Cannot rest on _Clay_ foundation. +And the _tracks_ of '_The Polk-itian_' +Are but railroads to perdition! + Pull up the rails! Emancipation + Cannot rest on such foundation. + +All true friends of Emancipation, +Haste to Freedom's railroad station; +Quick into the cars get seated, +All is ready and completed.-- + Put on the steam! all are crying, + And the liberty flags are flying. + +On, triumphant see them bearing, +Through sectarian rubbish tearing; +The bell and whistle and the steaming, +Startle thousands from their dreaming. + Look out for the cars while the bell rings! + Ere the sound your funeral knell rings. + +See the people run to meet us; +At the depots thousands greet us; +All take seats with exultation, +In the Car Emancipation. + Huzza! Huzza!! Emancipation + Soon will bless our happy nation. + Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!!! + + + + +EMANCIPATION SONG. + +Words from the "Bangor Gazette." Air, "Crambambule." + + +[Music] + +Let waiting throngs now lift their voices, + As Freedom's glorious day draws near, +While every gentle tongue rejoices, + And each bold heart is filled with cheer, +The slave has seen the Northern star, +He'll soon be free, hurrah, hurrah! +Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! + +Though many still are writhing under + The cruel whips of "chevaliers," +Who mothers from their children sunder, + And scourge them for their helpless tears-- +Their safe deliv'rance is not far! +The day draws nigh!--hurrah, hurrah! + +Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest + Surrounds the earth as with a pall; +Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest, + That on thy sight the rays may fall! +No doubt let now thy bosom mar: +Send up the shout--hurrah, hurrah! + +Shall we distrust the God of Heaven?-- + He every doubt and fear will quell; +By him the captive's chains are riven-- + So let us loud the chorus swell! +Man shall be free from cruel law,-- +Man shall be MAN!--hurrah, hurrah! + +No more again shall it be granted + To southern overseers to rule-- +No more will pilgrims' sons be taunted + With cringing low in slavery's school. +So clear the way for Freedom's car-- +The free shall rule!--hurrah, hurrah! + +Send up the shout Emancipation-- + From heaven let the echoes bound-- +Soon will it bless this franchised nation,-- + Come raise again the stirring sound? +Emancipation near and far-- +Swell up the shout--hurrah! hurrah! + + + + +HARBINGER OF LIBERTY. + +Words by a Lady. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +See yon glorious star ascending, + Brightly o'er the Southern sea! +Truth and peace on earth portending, + Herald of a jubilee! + Hail it, Freemen! Hail it, Freemen! + 'Tis the star of Liberty. + +Dim at first--but widely spreading, + Soon 'twill burst supremely bright, +Life and health and comfort shedding + O'er the shades of moral night; + Hail it, Bondmen! + Slavery cannot bear its light. + +Few its rays--'t is but the dawning + Of the reign of truth and peace; +Joy to slaves--yet sad forewarning, + To the tyrants of our race; + Tremble, Tyrants! + Soon your cruel pow'r will cease. + +Earth is brighten'd by the glory + Of its mild and peaceful rays; +Ransom'd slaves shall tell the story, + See its light, and sing its praise; + Hail it, Christians! + Harbinger of better days. + + + + +Light of Truth. + + +Hark! a voice from heaven proclaiming + Comfort to the mourning slave; +God has heard him long complaining, + And extends his arm to save; + Proud Oppression + Soon shall find a shameful grave. + +See! the light of truth is breaking, + Full and clear on ev'ry hand; +And the voice of mercy, speaking, + Now is heard through all the land; + Firm and fearless, + See the friends of Freedom stand! + +Lo! the nation is arousing + From its slumbers, long and deep; +And the church of God is waking, + Never, never more to sleep, + While a bondman, + In his chains remains to weep. + +Long, too long, have we been dreaming, + O'er our country's sin and shame; +Let us now, the time redeeming, + Press the helpless captive's claim, + Till, exulting, + He shall cast aside his chain. + + + + +ODE TO JAMES G. BIRNEY. + +Words by Elizur Wright. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +We hail thee, Birney, just and true, + The calm and fearless, staunch and tried, +The bravest of the valiant few, + Our country's hope, our country's pride! +In Freedom's battle take the van; +We hail thee as an honest man. + +Thy country, in her darkest hour, + When heroes bend at Mammon's shrine, +And virtue sells herself to Power, + Lights up in smiles at deeds like thine! +Then welcome to the battle's van-- +We _hail_ thee as an HONEST MAN! + +Thy own example leads the way + From Egypt's gloom to Canaan's light; +Thy justice is the breaking day + Of Slavery's long and guilty night; +Then welcome to the battle's van-- +We hail thee as an honest man. + +Thine is the eagle eye to see, + And thine a human heart to feel; +A worthy leader of the free, + We'll trust thee with a Nation's weal; +We'll trust thee in the battle's van-- +We _hail_ thee as an honest man. + +An _honest man_--an _honest man_-- + God made thee on his noblest plan, +To do the right and brave the scorn; + To stand in Freedom's "hope forlorn;" +Then welcome to the triumph's van-- +WE HAIL THEE AS OUR CHOSEN MAN! + + + + +A TRIBUTE TO DEPARTED WORTH.[5] + +[Footnote 5: As sung by G.W.C. at the erection of the monument to the +memory of Myron Holley, Mount Hope, Rochester. It may be sung as a +Dirge.] + + +[Music] + +Oh, it is not the tear at this moment shed, + When the cold turf has just been laid o'er him, +That can tell how beloved was the soul that's fled, + Or how deep in our hearts we deplore him: +'Tis the tear through many a long day wept, + Through a life by his loss all shaded, +'Tis the sad remembrance fondly kept, + When all other griefs have faded. + +Oh! thus shall we mourn, and his memory's light + While it shines through our hearts will improve them; +For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright, + When we think how he lived but to love them. +And as buried saints the grave perfume, + Where fadeless they've long been lying;-- +So our hearts shall borrow a sweetening bloom + From the image he left there in dying. + + + + +THE LIBERTY VOTER'S SONG. + +Words by E. Wright, jr. Air, from "Niel Gow's Farewell." + + +[Music] + +The vote, the vote, the mighty vote, +Though once we used a humbler note, +And prayed our servants to be just, +We tell the now they must, they must. + +Chorus. + + The tyrant's grapple, by our vote, + We'll loosen from our brother's throat, + With Washington we here agree, + The vote's the weapon of the free. + +We'll scatter not the precious power +On parties that to slavery cower; +But make it one against the wrong, +Till down it comes, a million strong. + The tyrant's grapple, &c. + +We'll bake the dough-face with our vote, +Who stood the scorching when we wrote; +And paler than the milky way, +We'll bake the plastic face of CLAY. + The tyrant's grapple, &c. + +Our vote shall teach all statesmen law, +Who in the Southern harness draw; +So well contented to be slaves, +They fain would prove their fathers knaves! + The tyrant's grapple, &c. + +We'll not provoke our wives to use +A power that we through fear abuse; +His mother shall not blush to own +One voter of us for a son. + The tyrant's grapple, by our vote, + We'll loosen from our brother's throat; + With Washington we here agree, + Whose MOTHER taught him to be free! + + + + +THE LIBERTY BALL. + +G.W.C. Air, "Rosin the Bow." + + +[Music] + +Come all ye true friends of the nation, + Attend to humanity's call; +Come aid the poor slave's liberation, + And roll on the liberty ball-- + And roll on the liberty ball-- + And roll on the liberty ball, + Come aid the poor slave's liberation, + And roll on the liberty ball. + +The Liberty hosts are advancing-- + For freedom to _all_ they declare; +The down-trodden millions are sighing-- + Come, break up our gloom of despair. + Come break up our gloom of despair, &c. + +Ye Democrats, come to the rescue, + And aid on the liberty cause, +And millions will rise up and bless you + With heart-cheering songs of applause, + With heart-cheering songs, &c. + +Ye Whigs forsake CLAY and _John Tyler_! + And boldly step into our ranks; +We'll spread our pure banner still wider, + And invite all the friends of the banks,-- + And invite all the friends of the banks, &c. + +And when we have formed the blest union + We'll firmly march on, one and all-- +We'll sing when we meet in communion, + And _roll on_ the liberty ball, + And roll on the liberty ball, &c. + +How can you stand halting while virtue + Is sweetly appealing to all; +Then haste to the standard of duty, + And roll on the liberty ball; + And roll on the liberty ball, &c. + +The question of test is now turning, + And freedom or slavery must fall, +While hope in the bosom is burning, + We'll roll on the liberty ball; + We'll roll on the liberty ball, &c. + +Ye freemen attend to your voting, + Your ballots will answer the call; +And while others attend to _log-rolling_, + We'll roll on the liberty ball-- + We'll roll on the liberty ball, &c. + + + + +The Trumpet of Freedom. + + +HARK! hark! to the TRUMPET of FREEDOM! + Her rallying signal she blows: +Come, gather around her broad banner, + And battle 'gainst Liberty's foes. + +Our forefathers plighted their honor, + Their lives and their property, too, +To maintain in defiance of Britain, + Their principles, righteous and true. + +We'll show to the world we are worthy + The blessings our ancestors won, +And finish the temple of Freedom, + That HANCOCK and FRANKLIN begun. + +Hurra, for the old-fashioned doctrine, + That men are created all free! +We ever will boldly maintain it, + Nor care who the tyrant may be. + +When Poland was fighting for freedom, + Our voices went over the sea, +To bid her God-speed in the contest-- + That Poland, like us, might be free. + +When down-trodden Greece had up-risen, + And baffled the Mahomet crew; +We rejoiced in the glorious issue, + That Greece had her liberty, too. + +Repeal, do we also delight in-- + Three cheers for the "gem of the sea!" +And soon may the bright day be dawning, + When Ireland, like us, shall be free. + +Like us, who are foes to oppression; + But not like America now. +With shame do we blush to confess it, + Too many to slavery bow. + +We're foes unto wrong and oppression, + No matter which side of the sea; +And ever intend to oppose them, + Till all of God's image are free. + +Some tell us because men are colored, + They should not our sympathy share; +We ask not the form or complexion-- + The seal of our Maker is there! + +Success to the old-fashioned doctrine, + That men are created all free! +And down with the power of the despot, + Wherever his strongholds may be. + +We're proud of the name of a freeman, + And proud of the character, too; +And never will do any action, + Save such as a freeman may do. + +We'll finish the Temple of Freedom, + And make it capacious within, +That all who seek shelter may find it, + Whatever the hue of their skin. + +For thus the Almighty designed It, + And gave to our fathers the plan; +Intending that liberty's blessings, + Should rest upon every man. + +Then up with the cap-stone and cornice, + With columns encircle its wall, +Throw open its gateway, and make it + A HOME AND A REFUGE FOR ALL! + + + + +BREAK EVERY YOKE. + +Tune--"O no, we never mention her." + + +[Music] + +Break every yoke, the Gospel cries, +And let th' oppressed go free, +Let every captive taste the joys +Of peace and liberty. + +Send thy good Spirit from above, +And melt th' oppressor's heart, +Send sweet deliv'rance to the slave, +And bid his woes depart. + +Lord, when shall man thy voice obey, +And rend each iron chain, +Oh when shall love its golden sway, +O'er all the earth maintain. + +With freedom's blessings crown his day-- +O'erflow his heart with love, +Teach him that straight and narrow way, +Which leads to rest above. + + + + +THE YANKEE GIRL. + +Words by Whittier. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +She sings by her wheel at that low cottage door, +Which the long evening shadow is stretching before; +With a music as sweet as the music which seems +Breathed softly and faint in the ear of our dreams! + +How brilliant and mirthful the light of her eye, +Like a star glancing out from the blue of the sky! +And lightly and freely her dark tresses play +O'er a brow and a bosom as lovely as they! + +Who comes in his pride to that low cottage-door-- +The haughty and rich to the humble and poor? +'Tis the great Southern planter--the master who waves +His whip of dominion o'er hundreds of slaves. + +"Nay, Ellen--for shame! Let those Yankee fools spin, +Who would pass for our slaves with a change of their skin; +Let them toil as they will at the loom or the wheel, +Too stupid for shame, and too vulgar to feel! + +"But thou art too lovely and precious a gem +To be bound to their burdens and sullied by them-- +For shame, Ellen, shame!--cast thy bondage aside, +And away to the South, as my blessing and pride. + +"Oh, come where no winter thy footsteps can wrong, +But where flowers are blossoming all the year long, +Where the shade of the palm tree is over my home, +And the lemon and orange are white in their bloom! + +"Oh, come to my home, where my servants shall all +Depart at thy bidding and come at thy call; +They shall heed thee as mistress with trembling and awe, +And each wish of thy heart shall be felt as a law." + +Oh, could ye have seen her--that pride of our girls-- +Arise and cast back the dark wealth of her curls, +With a scorn in her eye which the gazer could feel, +And a glance like the sunshine that flashes on steel! + +"Go back, haughty Southron! thy treasures of gold +Are dim with the blood of the hearts thou hast sold! +Thy home may be lovely, but round it I hear +The crack of the whip and the footsteps of fear! + +"And the sky of thy South may be brighter than ours, +And greener thy landscapes, and fairer thy flowers; +But, dearer the blast round our mountains which raves, +Than the sweet summer zephyr which breathes over slaves! + +"Full low at thy bidding thy negroes may kneel, +With the iron of bondage on spirit and heel; +Yet know that the Yankee girl sooner would be +In _fetters_ with _them_, than in freedom with _thee_!" + + + + +FREEDOM'S GATHERING. + +Words from the Pennsylvania Freeman. Music by G.W.C. + + +[Music] + +A voice has gone forth, and the land is awake! +Our freemen shall gather from ocean to lake, +Our cause is as pure as the earth ever saw, +And our faith we will pledge in the thrilling huzza. + Then huzza, then huzza, +Truth's glittering falchion for freedom we draw. + +Let them blacken our names and pursue us with ill, +Our hearts shall be faithful to liberty still; +Then rally! then rally! come one and come all, +With harness well girded, and echo the call. + +Thy hill-tops, New England, shall leap at the cry, +And the prairie and far distant south shall reply; +It shall roll o'er the land till the farthermost glen +Gives back the glad summons again and again. + +Oppression shall hear in its temple of blood, +And read on its wall the handwriting of God; +Niagara's torrent shall thunder it forth, +It shall burn in the sentinel star of the North. + +It shall blaze in the lightning, and speak in the thunder, +Till Slavery's fetters are riven asunder, +And freedom her rights has triumphantly won, +And our country her garments of beauty put on. + Then huzza, then huzza, +Truth's glittering falchion for freedom we draw. + +Let them blacken our names, and pursue us with ill, +We bow at thy altar, sweet liberty still! +As the breeze f'm the mountain sweeps over the river, +So, changeless and free, shall our thoughts be, for ever. + +Then on to the conflict for freedom and truth; +Come Matron, come Maiden, come Manhood and youth, +Come gather! come gather! come one and come all, +And soon shall the altars of Slavery fall. + +The forests shall know it, and lift up their voice, +To bid the green prairies and valleys rejoice; +And the "Father of Waters," join Mexico's sea, +In the anthem of Nature for millions set free. + Then huzza! then huzza! +Truth's glittering falchion for freedom we draw. + + + + +Be kind to each other. + +BY CHARLES SWAIN. + + +Be kind to each other! + The night's coming on, +When friend and when brother + Perchance may be gone! +Then 'midst our dejection, + How sweet to have earned +The blest recollection, + Of kindness--returned! + +When day hath departed, + And memory keeps +Her watch, broken-hearted, + Where all she loved sleeps! +Let falsehood assail not, + Nor envy disprove-- +Let trifles prevail not + Against those ye love! + +Nor change with to-morrow, + Should fortune take wing, +But the deeper the sorrow, + The closer still cling! +Oh! be kind to each other! + The night's coming on, +When friend and when brother + Perchance may be gone. + + + + +PRAISE AND PRAYER. + +Words by Miss Chandler. + + +[Music] + +Praise for slumbers of the night, +For the wakening morning's light, +For the board with plenty spread, +Gladness o'er the spirit shed; +Healthful pulse and cloudless eye, +Opening on the smiling sky. + +Praise! for loving hearts that still +With life's bounding pulses thrill; +Praise, that still our own may know-- +Earthly joy and earthly woe. +Praise for every varied good, +Bounteous round our pathway strew'd! + +Prayer! for grateful hearts to raise +Incense meet of prayer and praise! +Prayer, for spirits calm and meek, +Wisdom life's best joys to seek; +Strength 'midst devious paths to tread-- +That through which the Saviour led. + +Prayer! for those who, day by day, +Weep their bitter life away; +Prayer, for those who bind the chain +Rudely on their throbbing vein-- +That repentance deep may win +Pardon for the fearful sin! + + + + +THE SLAVE'S LAMENTATION. + +A Parody by Tucker. Air, "Long, long ago." + + +[Music] + +Where are the friends that to me were so dear, + Long, long ago, long, long ago! +Where are the hopes that my heart used to cheer? + Long, long ago, long, long ago! +Friends that I loved in the grave are laid low, +All hope of freedom hath fled from me now. +I am degraded, for man was my foe, + Long, long ago, long, long ago! + +Sadly my wife bowed her beautiful head-- + Long, long ago--long ago! +Oh, how I wept when I found she was dead! + Long, long ago--long ago! +She was my angel, my love and my pride-- +Vainly to save her from torture I tried, +Poor broken heart! She rejoiced as she died, + Long, long ago--long, long ago! + +Let me look back on the days of my youth-- + Long, long ago--long ago! +Master withheld from me knowledge and truth-- + Long, long ago--long ago! +Crushed all the hopes of my earliest day, +Sent me from father and mother away-- +Forbade me to read, nor allowed me to pray-- + Long, long ago--long, long ago! + + + + +THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND. + +Montgomery and Denison. Tune, "Duane Street." + + +[Music] + +A poor wayfaring man of grief, + Hath often crossed me on my way, +Who sued so humbly for relief, + That I could never answer nay; +I had not power to ask his name, +Whither he went or whence he came; +Yet there was something in his eye, +Which won my love, I knew not why. + +Once, when my scanty meal was spread, + He entered--not a word he spake-- +Just perishing for want of bread, + I gave him all; he blessed it, brake, +And ate, but gave me part again: +Mine was an angel's portion then, +For while I fed with eager haste, +The crust was manna to my taste. + +'Twas night. The floods were out, it blew + A winter hurricane aloof: +I heard his voice abroad, and flew + To bid him welcome to my roof; +I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest, +I laid him on my couch to rest: +Then made the ground my bed and seemed +In Eden's garden while I dreamed. + +I saw him bleeding in his chains, + And tortured 'neath the driver's lash, +His sweat fell fast along the plains, + Deep dyed from many a fearful gash: +But I in bonds remembered him, +And strove to free each fettered limb, +As with my tears I washed his blood, +Me he baptized with mercy's flood. + +I saw him in the negro pew, + His head hung low upon his breast, +His locks were wet with drops of dew, + Gathered while he for entrance pressed +Within those aisles, whose courts are given +That black and white may reach one heaven; +And as I meekly sought his feet, +He smiled, and made a throne my seat. + +In prison I saw him next condemned + To meet a traitor's doom at morn; +The tide of lying tongues I stemmed, + And honored him midst shame and scorn. +My friendship's utmost zeal to try, +He asked if I for him would die; +The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill, +But the free spirit cried, "I will." + +Then in a moment to my view, + The stranger darted from disguise; +The tokens in his hands I knew, + My Saviour stood before my eyes! +He spoke, and my poor name he named-- +"Of me thou hast not been ashamed, +These deeds shall thy memorial be; +Fear not, thou didst them unto me." + + + + +WE'RE FOR FREEDOM THROUGH THE LAND. + +Words by J.E. Robinson. Music arranged from the "Old Granite State." + + +[Music] + +We are coming, we are coming! freedom's battle is begun! +No hand shall furl her banner ere her victory be won! +Our shields are locked for liberty, and mercy goes before: +Tyrants tremble in your citadel! oppression shall be o'er. + We will vote for Birney, + We will vote for Birney, + We're for Morris and for Birney, + And for Freedom through the land. + +We have hatred, dark and deep, for the fetter and the thong; +We bring light for prisoned spirits, for the captive's wail a song; +We are coming, we are coming! and, "No league with tyrant man," +Is emblazoned on our banner, while Jehovah leads the van! + We will vote for Birney, + We will vote for Birney, + We're for Morris and for Birney, + And for Freedom through the land! + +We are coming, we are coming! but we wield no battle brand: +We are armed with truth and justice, with God's charter in our hand, +And our voice which swells for freedom--freedom now and ever more-- +Shall be heard as ocean's thunder, when they burst upon the shore! + We will vote for Birney, + We will vote for Birney, + We're for Morris and for Birney, + And for Freedom through the land. + +Be patient, O, be patient! ye suffering ones of earth! +Denied a glorious heritage--our common right by birth; +With fettered limbs and spirits, your battle shall be won! +O be patient--we are coming! suffer on, suffer on! + We will vote for Birney, + We will vote for Birney, + We're for Morris and for Birney, + And for Freedom through the land. + +We are coming, we are coming! not as comes the tempest's wrath, +When the frown of desolation sits brooding o'er its path; +But with mercy, such as leaves his holy signet-light upon +The air in lambent beauty, when the darkened storm is gone. + We will vote for Birney, + We will vote for Birney, + We're for Morris and for Birney, + And for Freedom through the land. + +O, be patient in your misery! be mute in your despair! +While your chains are grinding deeper, there's a voice upon the air! +Ye shall feel its potent echoes, ye shall hear its lovely sound, +We are coming! we are coming! bringing freedom to the bound! + We will vote for Birney, + We will vote for Birney, + We're for Morris and for Birney, + And for Freedom through the land. + + NOTE.--Suggested by a song sung by George W. Clark, at a + recent convention in Rochester, N.Y. + + + + +WE ARE ALL CHILDREN OF ONE PARENT. + +Words from the Youth's Cabinet. Music by L. Mason. + + +[Music] + +Sister, thou art worn and weary, + Toiling for another's gain; +Life with thee is dark and dreary, + Filled with wretchedness and pain, +Thou must rise at dawn of light, + And thy daily task pursue, +Till the darkness of the night + Hide thy labors from thy view. + +Oft, alas! thou hast to bear + Sufferings more than tongue can tell; +Thy oppressor will not spare, + But delights thy griefs to swell; +Oft thy back the scourge has felt, + Then to God thou'st raised the cry +That the tyrant's heart he'd melt + Ere thou should'st in tortures die. + +Injured sister, well we know + That thy lot in life is hard; +Sad thy state of toil and wo, + From all blessedness debarred; +While each sympathizing heart + Pities thy forlorn distress; +We would sweet relief impart, + And delight thy soul to bless. + +And what lies within our power + We most cheerfully will do, +That will haste the blissful hour + Fraught with news of joy to you; +And when comes the happy day + That shall free our captive friend, +When Jehovah's mighty sway + Shall to slavery put an end: + +Then, dear sister, we with thee + Will to heaven direct our voice; +Joyfully with voices free + We'll in lofty strains rejoice; +Gracious God! thy name we'll bless, + Hallelujah evermore, +Thou hast heard in righteousness, + And our sister's griefs are o'er. + + + + +Manhood. + +BY ROBERT BURNS. + +Tune, "Our Warrior's Hearts," page 128. + + +Is there, for honest poverty, + That hangs his head, and a' that; +The coward-slave, we pass him by, + We dare be poor, for a' that; +For a' that and a' that; + Our toils obscure, and a' that, +The rank is but the guinea's stamp, + The man's the gowd, for a' that. + +What though on homely fare we dine, + Wear hodden gray and a' that, +Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, + A man's a man for a' that; +The honest man tho' e'er so poor, + Is king o' men for a' that; +The rank is but the guinea's stamp, + The man's the gowd for a' that. + +Then let us pray that come it may, + As come it will, for a' that, +That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, + May bear the gree, and a' that; +For a' that, and a' that, + It's coming yet, for a' that, +That man to man, the world all o'er + Shall brothers be, for a' that. + + Terms explained:-- + _Gowd_--gold. + _Hodden_--homespun, or mean. + _Gree_--honor, or victory. + + + + +The Poor Voter's Song. + +Air, "Lucy Long." + + +They knew that I was poor, + And they thought that I was base; +They thought that I'd endure + To be covered with disgrace; +They thought me of their tribe, + Who on filthy lucre doat, +So they offered me a bribe + For my vote, boys! my vote! + O shame upon my betters, + Who would my conscience buy! + But I'll not wear their fetters, + Not I, indeed, not I! + +My vote? It is not mine + To do with as I will; +To cast, like pearls, to swine, + To these wallowers in ill. +It is my country's due, + And I'll give it, while I can, +To the honest and the true, + Like a man, like a man! + O shame, &c. + +No, no, I'll hold my vote, + As a treasure and a trust, +My dishonor none shall quote, + When I'm mingled with the dust; +And my children when I'm gone, + Shall be strengthened by the thought, +That their father was not one + To be bought, to be bought! + O shame, &c. + + + + +The Flying Slave. + +FROM THE BANGOR GAZETTE. + +AIR:--"_To Greece we give our shining blades_." + + +The night is dark, and keen the air, +And the Slave is flying to be free; +His parting word is one short prayer: +Oh God, but give me Liberty! + Farewell--farewell: +Behind I leave the whips and chains, +Before me spreads sweet Freedom's plains. + +One star shines in the heavens above +That guides him on his lonely way;-- +Star of the North--how deep his love +For thee, thou star of Liberty! + Farewell--farewell: +Behind he leaves the whips and chains, +Before him spreads sweet Freedom's plains. + + + + +For the Election. + +TUNE:--'_Scots wha hae with Wallace bled_.' + + +Ye who know and do the right, +Ye who cherish honor bright, +Ye who worship love and light, + Choose your side to-day. +Succor Freedom, now you can, +Voting for an honest man; +Or you may from Slavery's span, + Pick a Polk or Clay. + +Boasts your vote no higher aim, +Than between two blots of shame +That would stain our country's fame, + Just to choose the least? +Let it sternly answer no! +Let it straight for Freedom go; +Let it swell the winds that blow + From the north and east. + +Blot!--the smaller--is a curse +Blighting conscience, honor, purse; +Give us any, give the worse, + 'Twill be less endured. +Freemen, is it God who wills +You to choose, of foulest ills, +That which only latest kills? + No; he wills it cured. + +Do your duty, He will aid; +Dare to vote as you have prayed; +Who e'er conquered, while his blade + Served his open foes. +Right established, would you see? +Feel that you yourselves are free; +Strike for that which ought to be-- + God will bless the blows. + + + + +Hail the Day! + +AIR:--"_Wreathe the bowl_." + + + Hail the day + Whose joyful ray +Speaks of emancipation! + The day that broke + Oppression's yoke-- +The birth-day of a nation! + + When England's might + Put forth for right, +Achieved a fame more glorious + Than armies tried, + Or navies' pride, +O'er land and sea victorious! + + Soon may we gain + An equal name +In honor's estimation! + And righteousness + Exalt and bless +Our glorious happy nation! + + Brave hearts shall lend + Strong hands to rend +Foul slavery's bonds asunder, + And liberty + Her jubilee +Proclaim, in tones of thunder! + + We hail afar + Fair freedom's star, +Her day-star brightly glancing; + We hear the tramp + From freedom's camp, +Assembling and advancing! + + No noisy drum + Nor murderous gun, +No deadly fiends contending; + But love and right + Their force unite, +In peaceful conflict blending. + + Fair freedom's host, + In joyful boast, +Unfolds her banner ample! + With Channing's fame, + And Whittier's name, +And BIRNEY'S bright example! + + Come join your hands + With freedom's bands, +New England's sons and daughters! + Speak your decree-- + Man shall be free-- +As mountains, winds and waters! + + And haste the day + Whose coming ray +Speaks our emancipation! + Whose glorious light, + Enthroning right, +Shall bless and save the nation! + + + + +(From the Globe.) + +The Ballot. + +BY J.E. DOW. + +Air, "Bonnie Doon," page 54. + + +Dread sovereign, thou! the chainless WILL-- + Thy source the nation's mighty heart-- +The ballot box thy cradle still-- + Thou speak'st, and nineteen millions start; +Thy subjects, sons of noble sires; + Descendants of a patriot band-- +Thy lights a million's household fires-- + Thy daily walk, my native land. + +And shall the safeguard of the free, + By valor won on gory plains, +Become a solemn mockery + While freemen breathe and virtue reigns? +Shall liberty be bought and sold + By guilty creatures clothed with power? +Is HONOR but a name for GOLD, + And PRINCIPLE A WITHERED FLOWER? + +The parricide's accursed steel + Has pierced thy sacred sovereignty; +And all who think, and all who feel, + Must act or never more be free. +No party chains shall bind us here; + No mighty name shall turn the blow: +Then, wounded sovereignty, appear, + And lay the base apostates low. + +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 passed. +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? + "God above, + In thy love, + O liberate the slave!" + +Ye heard of trampled Poland, + And of her sons in chains, +And noble 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 noble patriot band,) +Could now look down with kindling joy, + And smile upon the land? +Or would a trumpet-tone go forth, + And ring from shore to shore;-- + "All who stand, + In this land, + Shall be free for evermore!" + +Great God, 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 God'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 God 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 God, above. + +God of our infant hours! + The music of our tongues, +The worship of our nobler powers, + To thee, to thee belongs. + +The little, trembling slave + Shall feel our sympathy; +O God! 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 God 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 God 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 assemble, + 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. + + + + +INDEX. + + +[Transcriber's Note: The original order of the entries in this index +has been preserved.] + + PAGE + +Am I not a Man and Brother? 56 +Am I not a Sister? 57 +Afric's Dream 20 +A Beacon has been lighted 74 +A vision 142 +Are ye truly Free? 126 +A Tribute to departed worth 152 + +Brothers be Brave for the pining Slave 26 +Blind Slave Boy 37 +Bereaved Father 10 +Birney and Liberty 129 +Ballot-Box 130 +Be free! O man, be free! 134 +Break every yoke 159 +Be kind to each other 166 + +Comfort in affliction 44 +Clarion of Freedom 80 +Come join the Abolitionists 96 +Comfort for the bondmen 108 +Come and see the works of God 109 +Christian Mother 131 + +Domestic Bliss 31 + +Emancipation Song 146 + +Fugitive Slave to the Christian 34 +Fourth of July 88 +Freedom's Gathering 164 +Friend of the Friendless 103 + +Gone! gone, sold and gone 5 +Get off the Track 144 + +Heard ye that Cry? 48 +How long! O, how long! 33 +Hark! I hear a sound of anguish 24 +Hail the day! 180 +Hark! a voice from Heaven 110 +Holy freedom 120 +Harbinger of Liberty 148 +Hymn for Children 183 + +I would not live alway 59 +I am Monarch of naught I survey 18 + +Liberty battle Song 128 +Light of Truth 149 +Liberty Glee 184 + +Manhood 178 +My child is gone 43 +March to the Battle-field 115 +Myron Holly 77 +March on! march on! 184 + +Negro Boy sold for a watch 16 + +O Pity the Slave Mother 32 +Our Pilgrim Fathers 60 +Our Countrymen in chains! 76 +On to Victory 83 +Our Countrymen are dying 94 +O Charity! 101 +Oft in the chilly night 117 +Ode to James G. Birney 150 + +Prayer for the Slave 52 +Pilgrim Song 86 +Praise and Prayer 167 +Poor Voter's Song 178 + +Quadroon Maiden 29 + +Remembering God is just 53 +Rise! Freeman rise! 73 +Rouse up, New England! 70 +Remember me 73 + +Sleep on, my Child 49 +Song of the Coffle gang 22 +Slave's Wrongs 40 +Stanzas for the times 63 +Slave Boy's Wish 9 +Slave Girl mourning her Father 12 +Slave Mother and her babe 13 +Strike for liberty 82 +Sing me a triumph Song 91 +Song of the Free 118 +Stolen we were 140 + +The law of love 100 +The fugitive 54 +The poor little slave 45 +The Bereaved Mother 46 +The Negro's appeal 14 +The Strength of tyranny 36 +To those I Love 66 +The Bondman 87 +The man for me 84 +The Mercy-Seat 102 +The pleasant land we love 112 +The freed Slave 114 +The Liberty Flag 114 +The Liberty party 132 +The last night of Slavery 136 +The Little Slave Girl 138 +The Liberty Voter's Song 154 +The Liberty Ball 156 +The Trumpet of Freedom 157 +The Slave's Lamentation 168 +The Stranger and his Friend 170 +That's my Country 127 +The flying Slave 179 +The Election 180 +The Ballot 181 +The Spirit of the Pilgrims 181 +The Ballot-Box 130 + +Voice of New England 78 + +Wake sons of the Pilgrims 92 +What means that sad and dismal Look 8 +We're coming, We're coming 68 +Wake, Sons of the Pilgrims 92 +We are Come, all Come 99 +We're for Freedom through the Land 173 +We are all children of one Parent 167 +Wake, Ye Numbers 104 +What mean ye, that ye bruise and bind? 182 +We ask not Martial Glory 95 + +Ye Heralds of Freedom 58 +Ye spirits of the Free 90 +Ye Sons of Freemen 121 +Yankee Girl 160 + +Zaza 50 + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Liberty Minstrel, by George W. 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