Though full of fears

Thou art with anguish, thy sad lot bewailing—
Now dry thy tears,

And see bright dawn o'er darkest night prevailing.

If cloudless skies

With life and gladness fill thy grateful being-
Such light does rise

From Him whose power works far beyond thy

seeing.

Look backward, till

Thou seest God's hand reached out protecting

o'er us,

And trust Him still,

Though wrathful foes in thousands range before us.

It is thy part

With silent lips to taste thy bitter portion,
And in thy heart,

Rebel no more with wild and vain commotion.

One long, long night

Our people suffered scorn and wrath and sorrow, But morning light

Led them God's way to meet a glorious morrow.

95

THE HOPE OF NATIONS.

The sullen ice has crept from many fields ; The conflict, though so turbulent, is past; Again the spring its wealth of verdure yields, The probing sun has conquered cold at last.

It is the Paschal of reviving earth,
The longed-for resurrection of its charms;
Each bud, prophetic type of freedom's birth,
A conquest each o'er winter's dread alarms.

And all the sunny joys, till now concealed,
Are emblems bright of freedom's blessed morn,
When Israel's rescue first that truth revealed:
"To free and equal rights all men are born!"

Then let our festival to all proclaim
Who yearn for liberty's enkindling sun,
And let the nations join the glad acclaim,
"Our God is One-Humanity is one!"

96

THE PRAISE OF THE FREE.

O holy Father, just and true

Are all Thy works and words and ways; And unto Thee alone are due

Thanksgiving and eternal praise!

97

As children of Thy precious care,

We veil the eye, we bend the knee, With broken words of praise and prayer, Father and God, we come to Thee.

For Thou hast heard, O God of right,
The sighing of the helpless slave,
And stretched for him Thine arm of right,
Not shortened that it could not save.
The laborer sits beneath his vine,

The shackled soul and hand are free;
Thanksgiving!-for the work is Thine,
Praise for the blessing is of Thee.

Speed on Thy work, Lord God of Hosts!
And when the bondsman's chain is riven
And swells from all our country's coasts

The anthem of the free to heaven,

O not to those whom Thou hast led
As with Thy cloud and fire before,
But unto Thee, in fear and dread,
Be praise and glory evermore.

THE GROWING DAY.

Oppressions shall not always reign;

There comes a brighter day,

When freedom, burst from every chain,
Shall have triumphant sway.

98

Then right shall over might prevail,

And truth's full armed array
The hosts of tyrant wrong assail,
And hold eternal sway.

What voice shall bid the progress stay

Of truth's victorious car?
What arm arrest the growing day,
Or quench the solar star?

What arm shall dare, tho' stout and strong,
Restore the ancient wrong?
Oppression's guilty might prolong
And freedom's morning bar?

The hour of triumph comes apace,
The fated, promised hour,

When earth upon a ransom'd race
Her bounteous gifts shall shower.

TRUE FREEDOM.
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?

Is true freedom but to break
Fetters for our own dear sake,
And with heathen hearts forget
That we owe mankind a debt?
No! true freedom is to share
All the chains our brothers wear,
And with heart and hand to be
Earnest to make others free!

They are slaves who fear to speak
For the fallen and the meek;

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.

99

THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

The breaking waves dashed high

On a stern and rock-bound coast;
And the woods against a stormy sky

Their giant branches tossed;
And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark

On the wild New England shore.