Hymn for the Monthly Concert.

211

Forward then, with courage go,

Long we shall not dwell below; Soon the joyful word will come,

Child, your Father calls-come home,

In the world a thousand snares
Lay to take us unawares ;
Slavery, with malicious art,
Watches each unguarded heart;
But from hate and malice free,
Saints shall soon victorious be;
Soon the joyful word will come,
Child, your Father calls-come home.

But of all the foes we meet,
None so apt to turn our feet-

To betray us into sin,

As the foes we have within; Yet let nothing spoil your peace, Christ will also conquer these ; Then the joyful word will come,

Child, your Father calls-come home.

Hymn for the Monthly Concert.

CXVI.

CAROLINE W. SEWALL.

Lord, when thine ancient people cried,
Oppressed and bound by Egypt's king,
Thou did'st Arabia's sea divide,

And forth thy fainting Israel bring.

Lo, in these latter days our land,

Groans with the anguish of the slave; Lord God of hosts! stretch forth thy hand,— Not shortened that it cannot save.

The Truly Forlorn.

CAROLINE W. SEWALL.

Grievously the captive sighs,
Wearily his strength applies,
Joylessly his task pursues,

Hopelessly the future views.

Who his abject lot shall bless?

Who shall soothe his soul's distress?

Bring his happy children near;

They his burdened heart will cheer.

Hymn for the Monthly Concert.

Roll back the swelling tide of sin,

The lust of gain-the lust of power: The day of Freedom usher in :

How long delays the appointed hour!

How long, oh Lord, how long !—we wake,
We watch, we weep, we cry to thee—
The oppressor hears yet heareth not.
Thou captive lead'st captivity.

Free young spirits God hath made
Such sweet ministry to aid.

Ah! the light hath left their brow,
For the chain hath bound them now!

She who shared his leafy cot,

(Life was new, and griefs were not,)
Screened from day's too fervid gleams,
Filled his gourd by Afric's streams;

She will come affection's smile
Shall his fiercest woes beguile.
Ha! the smile her lip hath past,

And the chain is round her cast!

Look to Christ! mid'st wrongs and grief;

Sufferer, he will give relief.

Mountains fall and hide our shame!

He hath not even heard his name!

Thou, just God, art over all,-
For Thy help the helpless call.
Hearts of pride with mercy view,
For they know not what they do.

213

214

The Last Night of Slavery.

As thou of old to Miriam's hand,
The thrilling timbrel did'st restore,
And to the joyful song her land
Echoed from desert to the shore-

Oh let thy smitten ones again

Take up the chorus of the free;
Praise ye the Lord! his power proclaim,
For he hath triumphed gloriously!'

The Last Night of Slavery.

CXVII.

LET the floods clap their hands!
Let the mountains rejoice!

Let all the glad lands.

Breathe a jubilant voice :

The sun that now sets on the waves of the sea, Shall gild with his rising the land of the Free.

Let the islands be glad,
For their King in his might,
Who his glory bath clad

With a garment of light;

In the waters the beams of his chambers hath laid, And in the green waters his pathway hath made.

Hymn for the Boston Monthly Concert. 215

No more shall the deep

Lend its awe-stricken waves
In their caverns to steep

Its wild burden of slaves:

The Lord sitteth King;-sitteth King on the flood, He heard, and hath answered the voice of their blood.

Dispel the blue haze,

Golden fountain of morn!

With meridian blaze

The wide ocean adorn!

The sunlight has touched the glad waves of the

sea,

And day now illumines the land of the Free.

Hymn for the Boston* Monthly Concert.

OXVIII.

M. W. CHAPMAN.

Through all the three-hilled city now,

Swell high the voice of prayer and praise!

Though the perpetual hills do bow,'

Yet everlasting are Thy ways.

* Originally called Trimountain.