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?
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?
When at the judgment God shall call,
Where is thy brother? say,
What mean ye to the Judge of all
To answer on that day?
LIGHT OF TRUTH.
Hark! a voice from heaven proclaiming
Comfort to the mourning slave:
God has heard him long complaining,
And extends his arm to save;
Proud Oppression
Soon shall find a shameful grave.
See! the light of truth is breaking
Full and clear on every hand;
And the voice of mercy, speaking,
Now is heard through all the land;
Firm and fearless,
See the friends of Freedom stand!
Lo! the nation is arousing
From its slumbers, long and deep;
And the church of God is waking,
Never, never more to sleep,
While a bondman
In his chains remains to weep.
Long, too long, have we been dreaming
O'er our country's sin and shame:
Let us now, the time redeeming,
Press the helpless captive's claim,
Till, exulting,
He shall cast aside his chain.
THE FLYING SLAVE.
Air—To Greece we give our shining blades.