Men, who the gospel tidings bring But ye, who scorn the thrilling tale With malice vex, with slander wound them The pure and good shall throng to hear, Oh, ever may the power which led Be round them in an evil land, With wisdom and with strength from Heaven, With Miriam's voice, and Judith's hand, And Deborah's song for triumph given! And what are ye who strive with God, To perish, even as flax consuming, And thou sad Angel, who so long Hast waited for the glorious token, That Earth from all her bonds of wrong To liberty and light has broken Angel of Freedom! soon to thee The sounding trumpet shall be given, And over Earth's full jubilee Shall deeper joy be felt in Heaven! LINES, WRITTEN for the meeting of the Anti-Slavery Society, at Chatham Street Chapel, N. Y., held on the 4th of the 7th month, 1834. O THOU, whose presence went before The fire by night the cloud by day! When from each temple of the free, May not our humble prayer be given? Thy children all-though hue and form. We thank Thee, Father!-hill and plain And peace is here; and hope and love And unto Thee, supreme above, The knee of prayer is bowed alone. But oh, for those this day can bring, Are bound in Slavery's fetters still : For those to whom Thy living word For broken heart, and clouded mind, And grant, O Father! that the time Of Earth's deliverance may be near, The message of Thy love shall hear When, smitten as with fire from heaven, The glorious freedom of the just! LINES, WRITTEN for the celebration of the Third Anniversary of British Emancipation, at the Broadway Tabernacle, N. Y., "First of August," 1837. O HOLY FATHER!-just and true Are all thy works and words and ways, Thanksgiving and eternal praise ! As children of Thy gracious care, For Thou hast heard, O God of Right, Not shortened that it could not save. The laborer sits beneath his vine, The shackled soul and hand are free And oh, we feel Thy presence here Praise The counsels of the wise are nought, The fountains of repentance flow; What hath our God in mercy wrought? Speed on Thy work, Lord God of Hosts! And swells from all our guilty coasts The anthem of the free to Heaven, LINES, WRITTEN for the Anniversary celebration of the First of August, at Milton, 1846. A FEW brief years have passed away Since Britain drove her million slaves God willed their freedom; and to-day He spoke across the Carib sea, We heard the clash of breaking chains, The first, strong pulse of liberty Which thrilled along the bondman's veins. Though long delayed, and far, and slow, Mighty alike for good or ill With mother-land, we fully share The Saxon strength the nerve of steel The tireless energy of will, The power to do, the pride to dare. What she has done can we not do? Our hour and men are both at hand; The blast which Freedom's angel blew O'er her green islands, echoes through Each valley of our forest land. Hear it, old Europe! we have sworn Oh kingly mockers!- scoffing show Not always shall your outraged poor, On then, my brothers! every blow Ye deal is felt the wide earth through; Whatever here uplifts the low Or humbles Freedom's hateful foe, Blesses the Old World through the New. |