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207.

C. M.

D. H. JAQUES.

1 O WEEP, ye friends of Freedom, weep !

Shout liberty no more;
Your harps to mournful measures sweep,

Till slavery's reign is o'er.
0, furl your star-lit thing of light-

That banner should not wave
Where, vainly pleading for his right,

Your Brother toils A SLAVE!
2 O pray, ye friends of Freedom, pray

For those who toil in chains,
Who lift their settered hands to-day

On Carolina's plains !
God is the hope of all th' oppressed ;

His arm is strong to save ;
Pray, then, that freedom's cause be blest,

Your Brother is a slave!
30 toil, ye friends of Freedom, toil !

Your mission to fulfil,-
That Freedom's consecrated soil,

The slaves no longer till ;
Ay, toil and pray from deep disgrace

Your native land to save ;
We
Teep o'er the miseries of your race,
Your Brother is A SLAVE!

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1 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 ?

2 What mean ye that ye make them toil,

Through long and weary years, And shed like rain upon your soil,

Their blood and bitter tears ? 3 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 ?
4 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 !

209.

P. M. Mrs. FOLLEN. I Hear ye not the voice of anguish,

In our own-our native land? Brethren, doomed in chains to languish, Lift to heaven the fettered hand;

And despairing,

Death, to end their grief, demand. 2 Let us raise our supplication,

For the scourged, the suff'ring slave-
All whose life is desolation,
All whose hope is in the grave;

God of mercy!

From thy throne, O, hear and save. 3 Those in bonds we would remember;

Lord, our hands with theirs are bound !
With each helpless, suff'ring member,
Let our sympathies be found ;

Till our labors
Spread the smile of freedom round.

4 Even now thy word is spoken !

Lo, the tyrant's power must cease!
From the slave the chain be broken !'
Captives, hail the kind release !

Then in splendor
Christ shall reign, the Prince of Peace!

210.

L. M. W. L. GARRISON. 1 The hour of freedom ! come it must

O! hasten it in inercy, heaven !
When all who grovel in the dust

Shall stand erect, their fetters riven. 2 When glorious freedom shall be won

By every caste, complexion, clime;
When tyranny shall be o'erthrown,

And color cease to be a crime !
3 Friend of the poor, long-suffering Lord !

This guilty land from ruin save,
Let Justice sheathe her glittering sword,

And Mercy rescue from the grave. 4 And ye, who are like cattle sold,

Ignobly trodden like the earth,
And bartered constantly for gold-

Your souls debased from their high birth5 Bear meekly still your cruel woes,

Light follows darkness-comfort, pain;
So time shall give you sweet repose,
And sever every hateful chain.

211.

11s. & 8s. Mrs. Price.

West India Emancipation. 1 How brightly they lie on the ocean's deep surge,

All gilded by freedom and love; The zephyr's sweet voice has sung tyranny's dirge,

And wafts their glad praises above. 2 The mother, who knelt where the briny waves

And lifted her hands in despair; [beat, Now feels that the fetter is loosed from her feet,

Her loved ones released from the snare. 3 There's joy in the cabin where once there was

The husband, the father is free [woe, While blessings of Liberty sweetly o'erflow

Those beautiful Isles of the sea. 4 A halo of glory encircles them now,

A rainbow is seen in the sky ; Fair freedom looks up with a wreath on her brow,

And points to the glory on high. 5 Those slaves once degraded may now hope to

The mansions prepared for the blest ; [gain Away from the thoughts of their bondage and pain,

With purified spirits to rest.

212.

P. M.

O. JOHNSON.

The Same. 1 The bondmen are free in the Isles of the main!

The chains from their limbs they are flinging ! They stand up as Men-never tyrants again Their God-given rights in proud scorn shall pro

It is Liberty's song they are singing: [fane, Hark, loud swells their strain o'er the foaming sea, 'Freedom ! holy freedom ! freedom, our joy is in

thee !'

2 That shout of the freed-men bursts sweet on

our ears! Their hymn full of joy, hear it swelling ! Their hearts throb with pleasure, their eyes fill

with tears, As ends the hard bondage of many long years :

Now exultant with pride they are telling• Free, free are we from the slave's hard yoke ! Freemen, faithful freemen-freemen, our fetters

have broke!'

3

3 Now praise to Jehovah! the might of His love

At length o'er the foe is prevailing; His truth was the weapon, and by it we strove, In the light of his spirit sent down from above

E'en his love and his truth never failing; Thanks, thanks unto God ! now the slave is free ! Freedom ! holy freedom ! Father, our thanks are

to thee!

4 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 ! holy freedom ! let all the world hear

the shout!

213.

L. M.

Mrs. COLBURN.

1 Eternal Father, Thou hast made

A numerous family thy care,
Nor sable hue, nor caste, nor grade,
Excludes the meanest from his share.

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