"Come dance for us," the rough men said;
"I can't," the child replied,
"I cannot for the dear Lord's sake,
Who for my sins once died."
Tho' they were strong and he was weak,
He wouldn't his Lord deny.
His life lay in their cruel hands,
But he for Christ could die.
Heard they aright? Did that brave child
Their mandates dare resist?
Did he against their stern commands
Have courage to insist?
Then recklessly a man (?) arose,
And dealt a fearful blow.
He crushed the portals of that life,
And laid the brave child low.
And trampled on his prostrate form,
As on a broken toy;
52 THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA.
Then danced with careless, brutal feet,
Upon the murdered boy.
Christians! behold that martyred child!
His blood cries from the ground;
Before the sleepless eye of God,
He shows each gaping wound.
Oh! Church of Christ arise! arise!
Lest crimson stain thy hand,
When God shall inquisition make
For blood shed in the land.
Take sackcloth of the darkest hue,
And shroud the pulpits round;
Servants of him who cannot lie
Sit mourning on the ground.