2 Then tyrants' crowns and sceptres,
And victors' wreaths and cars;
And galling chains and fetters,
With all the pomp of wars,
Shall in the dust be trodden,
Till time shall be no more;
And peace and joy from heaven
The Lord on earth shall pour.

262

CH

7s. & 6s.

AIR-" Scots wha hae.”

HILDREN 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,
Let your hopes or wishes rise,
Lo! your leader from the skies,
Bids you do or die.

2 This is proud oppression's hour,
Storms assail you, will you cow'r,
While beneath a despot's power,
Groans the suff'ring slave,

While on ev'ry southern gale,
Comes the helpless captive's tale,
Comes a voice of woman's wail,
And of man's despair?

3 Never! by your country's shame,
Never! by a Savior's claim,
To the men of ev'ry name,
Whom he died to save;

Onward, then, ye fearless band,
Heart to heart, and hand to hand;

Yours shall be the Christian's stand,
Or the martyr's grave.

263

TUNE-" Oft in the stilly night."
FT in the chilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound

When all her silvery light

The moon is pouring round me,
Beneath the 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,

me,

Though slavery's chain has bound me, Kneel I, and feel the might

Of God's right arm around me.

2 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.

264

MY

C. M.

AIR-" Ortonville."

Y mind to me a kingdom is,
And I would have it free;
For though its small in glory's eyes,
'T is all the world to me.

2 It roves about and sweetly brings, From earth, and sea, and sky,

Ten thousand bright and glorious things, Unseen by mortal eye.

3 O! let it once be quench'd and mute,
And lose its eagle ken;

Then I should sink below the brute,
That shuns the haunts of men.

4 There's scarce a brute that God has made,
That would not master me;
Or all my strength, without its aid,
Would its own murderer be.

5 The drunkard's drowsy powers alas!
How weak, and faint, and dim!
Like spectral shades they flit and pass,-
What are they worth to him?

6 They change the peaceful joys of home, To deadliest hate and wo,

And throw a sombre robe of gloom,
On loveliest scenes below,

7 His lively babes that climb his knee, And laugh his welcome home, Insulting brats appear to be,

That mock to see him come;

8 And she who meets him at the door,
And smiles her grief to hide,
E'en she, he thinks insults him more,
Than all the world beside.

9 If I the drunkard's bowl reject,
And never taste a jot,

Shall I command the less respect,
Than yonder trembling sot?

10 O may my mind be not like his,
Then I can sing with glee,
'My mind to me a kingdom is,'
"T is all the world to me.

265

M1P

AIR-" Sweet Home."

ID sorrows and sadness I'm destined to roam, Forlorn, and forsaken, deprived of my home; Intemperance hath robbed me of all that was dear, Of my home in the skies, and my happiness here. "Home! home! sweet, sweet home!"

An exile from God, I shall ne'er find a home.

2 I vainly presumed when I first took the cup, I could drink if I chose, or I could give it up; But I tampered too long, too long tempted Heaven, Till an outcast from God, and his presence I'm driven.

"Home! home! sweet, sweet home!"

On earth or in heaven, I shall ne'er find a home.

3 My heart-broken wife in her grave hath found rest, And my children have gone to the land of the blest; While I a poor wretch, a vile wanderer like Cain, With the mark" of the beast, on the earth still remain.

"Home! home! sweet, sweet home!"

How happy was I with my loved ones at home.

4 Farewell to the social endearments of home; Justly loathed by my fellows I wander alone; For presumptuously sinning and tempting the Lord, Of the fruit of my ways I must reap the reward. "Home! home! sweet, sweet home!"

An exile from God, I shall ne'er find a home.

266

W

C. M.

AIR-" Auld Lang Syne."

ITH banner and with badge we come,
An army true and strong,

To fight against the hosts of Rum,

And this shall be our song:

CHORUS.

We love the clear Cold Water Springs,
Supplied by gentle showers;
We feel the strength cold water brings,
"The victory is ours."

2 Cold Water-Army is our name,
O may we faithful be,

And so, in truth and justice claim

The blessings of the free.

We love the clear Cold Water Springs, &c.

3 Though others love their rum and wine, And drink till they are mad,

To water we will still incline,