Anti-Slavery Poems and Songs of Labor and Reform Part 32

And the bells in all the steeples Rang out in glad accord, To welcome home to Christian soil The ransomed of the Lord.

So runs the ancient legend By bard and painter told; And lo! the cycle rounds again, The new is as the old!

With rudder foully broken, And sails by traitors torn, Our country on a midnight sea Is waiting for the morn.

Before her, nameless terror; Behind, the pirate foe; The clouds are black above her, The sea is white below.

The hope of all who suffer, The dread of all who wrong, She drifts in darkness and in storm, How long, O Lord I how long?

But courage, O my mariners Ye shall not suffer wreck, While up to G.o.d the freedman's prayers Are rising from your deck.

Is not your sail the banner Which G.o.d hath blest anew, The mantle that De Matha wore, The red, the white, the blue?

Its hues are all of heaven, The red of sunset's dye, The whiteness of the moon-lit cloud, The blue of morning's sky.

Wait cheerily, then, O mariners, For daylight and for land; The breath of G.o.d is in your sail, Your rudder is His hand.

Sail on, sail on, deep-freighted With blessings and with hopes; The saints of old with shadowy hands Are pulling at your ropes.

Behind ye holy martyrs Uplift the palm and crown; Before ye unborn ages send Their benedictions down.

Take heart from John de Matha!-- G.o.d's errands never fail!

Sweep on through storm and darkness, The thunder and the hail!

Sail on! The morning cometh, The port ye yet shall win; And all the bells of G.o.d shall ring The good s.h.i.+p bravely in!

1865.

LAUS DEO!

On hearing the bells ring on the pa.s.sage of the const.i.tutional amendment abolis.h.i.+ng slavery. The resolution was adopted by Congress, January 31, 1865. The ratification by the requisite number of states was announced December 18, 1865.

IT is done!

Clang of bell and roar of gun Send the tidings up and down.

How the belfries rock and reel!

How the great guns, peal on peal, Fling the joy from town to town!

Ring, O bells!

Every stroke exulting tells Of the burial hour of crime.

Loud and long, that all may hear, Ring for every listening ear Of Eternity and Time!

Let us kneel G.o.d's own voice is in that peal, And this spot is holy ground.

Lord, forgive us! What are we, That our eyes this glory see, That our ears have heard the sound!

For the Lord On the whirlwind is abroad; In the earthquake He has spoken; He has smitten with His thunder The iron walls asunder, And the gates of bra.s.s are broken.

Loud and long Lift the old exulting song; Sing with Miriam by the sea, He has cast the mighty down; Horse and rider sink and drown; "He hath triumphed gloriously!"

Did we dare, In our agony of prayer, Ask for more than He has done?

When was ever His right hand Over any time or land Stretched as now beneath the sun?

How they pale, Ancient myth and song and tale, In this wonder of our days, When the cruel rod of war Blossoms white with righteous law, And the wrath of man is praise!

Blotted out All within and all about Shall a fresher life begin; Freer breathe the universe As it rolls its heavy curse On the dead and buried sin!

It is done!

In the circuit of the sun Shall the sound thereof go forth.

It shall bid the sad rejoice, It shall give the dumb a voice, It shall belt with joy the earth!

Ring and swing, Bells of joy! On morning's wing Send the song of praise abroad!

With a sound of broken chains Tell the nations that He reigns, Who alone is Lord and G.o.d!

1865.

HYMN FOR THE CELEBRATION OF EMANc.i.p.aTION AT NEWBURYPORT.

NOT unto us who did but seek The word that burned within to speak, Not unto us this day belong The triumph and exultant song.

Upon us fell in early youth The burden of unwelcome truth, And left us, weak and frail and few, The censor's painful work to do.

Thenceforth our life a fight became, The air we breathed was hot with blame; For not with gauged and softened tone We made the bondman's cause our own.

We bore, as Freedom's hope forlorn, The private hate, the public scorn; Yet held through all the paths we trod Our faith in man and trust in G.o.d.

We prayed and hoped; but still, with awe, The coming of the sword we saw; We heard the nearing steps of doom, We saw the shade of things to come.

In grief which they alone can feel Who from a mother's wrong appeal, With blended lines of fear and hope We cast our country's horoscope.

For still within her house of life We marked the lurid sign of strife, And, poisoning and imbittering all, We saw the star of Wormwood fall.

Deep as our love for her became Our hate of all that wrought her shame, And if, thereby, with tongue and pen We erred,--we were but mortal men.

We hoped for peace; our eyes survey The blood-red dawn of Freedom's day We prayed for love to loose the chain; 'T is shorn by battle's axe in twain!

Nor skill nor strength nor zeal of ours Has mined and heaved the hostile towers; Not by our hands is turned the key That sets the sighing captives free.

A redder sea than Egypt's wave Is piled and parted for the slave; A darker cloud moves on in light; A fiercer fire is guide by night.

The praise, O Lord! is Thine alone, In Thy own way Thy work is done!

Our poor gifts at Thy feet we cast, To whom be glory, first and last!