Spirit Of Freemen, Wake!

AIR--America.

Spirit of Freemen, wake; No truce with Slavery make, Thy deadly foe; In fair disguises dressed, Too long hast thou caress’d The serpent in thy breast, Now lay him low.

Must e’en the press be dumb? Must truth itself succumb? And thoughts be mute? Shall law be set aside, The right of prayer denied, Nature and God decried, And man called brute?

What lover of her fame Feels not his country’s shame, In this dark hour? Where are the patriots now, Of honest heart and brow, Who scorn the neck to bow To Slavery’s power?

Sons of the Free! we call On you, in field and hall, To rise as one; Your heaven-born rights maintain, Nor let Oppression’s chain On human limbs remain;-- Speak! and ’tis done.

THE SLAVE’S LAMENTATION.

AIR--Long, long ago.

Where are the friends that to me were so dear, Long, long ago--long ago! Where are the hopes that my heart used to cheer, Long, long ago--long ago! I am degraded, for man was my foe, Friends that I loved in the grave are laid low, All hope of freedom hath fled from me now, Long, long ago--long, long ago!

Sadly my wife bowed her beautiful head-- Long, long ago--long ago! O, how I wept when I found she was dead! Long, long ago--long ago! She was my angel, my love and pride-- Vainly to save her from torture I tried, Poor broken heart! She rejoiced as she died, Long, long ago--long, long ago!

Let me look back on the days of my youth-- Long, long ago--long ago! Master withheld from me knowledge and truth-- Long, long ago--long ago! Crushed all the hopes of my earliest day, Sent me from father and mother away-- Forbade me to read, nor allowed me to pray-- Long, long ago--long, long ago!

SONG FOR THE TIMES.

I hear the cry of millions, of millions, of millions, I hear the cry of millions, of millions in bonds; Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

I hear the voice of Garrison, of Garrison, of Garrison, I hear the voice of Garrison, loud pleading for the slave; Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

I hear the voice of Phillips, of Phillips, of Phillips, I hear the voice of Phillips, in strain of eloquence; Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

I hear the voice of Foster, of Foster, of Foster, I hear the voice of Foster, against the priesthood; Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

I hear the voice of Pillsbury, of Pillsbury, of Pillsbury, I hear the voice of Pillsbury, with all his sarcasm; Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

I hear the voice of Remond, of Remond, of Remond, I hear the voice of Remond, on prejudice ’gainst color; Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

I hear the voice of Buffum, of Buffum, of Buffum, I hear the voice of Buffum, with a few more facts; Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

I hear the voice of Quincy, of Quincy, of Quincy, I hear the voice of Quincy, in words of living truth, Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

I hear the voice of Walker, of Walker, of Walker, I hear the voice of Walker, and see his “Branded Hand;” Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

I hear the voice of Giddings, of Giddings, of Giddings, I hear the voice of Giddings, in Congress, for the slave; Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

I hear the voice of thousands, of thousands, of thousands, I hear the voice of thousands, in favor of “Disunion;” Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.

FLIGHT OF THE BONDMAN.

DEDICATED TO WILLIAM W. BROWN,

And Sung by the Hutchinsons.

BY ELIAS SMITH.

AIR--Silver Moon.

From the crack of the rifle and baying of hound, Takes the poor panting bondman his flight; His couch through the day is the cold damp ground, But northward he runs through the night. Chorus. O, God speed the flight of the desolate slave, Let his heart never yield to despair; There is room ’mong our hills for the true and the brave, Let his lungs breathe our free northern air!

O, sweet to the storm-driven sailor the light, Streaming far o’er the dark swelling wave; But sweeter by far ’mong the lights of the night, Is the star of the north to the slave. O, God speed, &c.

Cold and bleak are our mountains and chilling our winds, But warm as the soft southern gales Be the hands and the hearts which the hunted one finds, ’Mong our hills and our own winter vales. O, God speed, &c.

Then list to the ’plaint of the heart-broken thrall, Ye blood-hounds, go back to your lair; May a free northern soil soon give freedom to all, Who shall breathe in its pure mountain air. O, God speed, &c.

THE SWEETS OF LIBERTY.

AIR--Is there a heart, &c.

Is there a man that never sighed To set the prisoner free? Is there a man that never prized The sweets of liberty? Then let him, let him breathe unseen, Or in a dungeon live; Nor never, never know the sweets That liberty can give.

Is there a heart so cold in man, Can galling fetters crave? Is there a wretch so truly low, Can stoop to be a slave? O, let him, then, in chains be bound, In chains and bondage live; Nor never, never know the sweets That liberty can give.

Is there a breast so chilled in life, Can nurse the coward’s sigh? Is there a creature so debased, Would not for freedom die? O, let him then be doomed to crawl Where only reptiles live; Nor never, never know the sweets That liberty can give.