A restless pilgrim of the earth and seas,
Gathering the generous thoughts of other lands,
To aid our holy cause. And aid is near:
But we must give the signal. Now, before
The majesty of yon pure heaven, whose eye
Is on our hearts—whose righteous arm befriends
The arm that strikes for freedom—speak! decree
The fate of our oppressors.
Mon. Let them fall
When dreaming least of peril!—when the heart,