The Liberty Minstrel Part 13

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 sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e-- 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d'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 G.o.d hath doubly crowned Creation's lord?

Shall men of Christian name, Without a blush of shame, Profess their tyrant claim From G.o.d'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 G.o.d, 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-b.a.l.l.s 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.