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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10448 ***
+
+THE ANTI-SLAVERY HARP:
+
+A COLLECTION OF SONGS FOR ANTI-SLAVERY MEETINGS
+
+COMPILED BY
+
+WILLIAM W. BROWN,
+
+A FUGITIVE SLAVE.
+
+1848.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The demand of the public for a cheap Anti-Slavery Song-Book,
+containing Songs of a more recent composition, has induced me
+to collect together, and present to the public, the songs contained
+in this book.
+
+In making this collection, however, I am indebted to the authors
+of the "Liberty Minstrel," and "the Anti-Slavery Melodies,"
+But the larger portion of these songs has never before been published;
+some have never been in print.
+
+To all true friends of the Slave, the Anti-Slavery Harp is
+respectfully dedicated,
+
+W. W. BROWN.
+
+BOSTON, JUNE, 1848.
+
+
+
+
+SONGS.
+
+
+
+HAVE WE NOT ALL ONE FATHER?
+
+
+
+
+AM I NOT A MAN AND BROTHER?
+
+AIR--Bride's Farewell.
+
+
+Am I not a man and brother?
+  Ought I not, then, to be free?
+Sell me not one to another,
+  Take not thus my liberty.
+Christ our Saviour, Christ our Saviour,
+  Died for me as well as thee.
+
+Am I not a man and brother?
+  Have I not a soul to save?
+Oh, do not my spirit smother,
+  Making me a wretched slave;
+God of mercy, God of mercy,
+  Let me fill a freeman's grave!
+
+Yes, thou art a man and brother,
+  Though thou long hast groaned a slave,
+Bound with cruel cords and tether
+  From the cradle to the grave!
+Yet the Saviour, yet the Saviour,
+  Bled and died all souls to save.
+
+Yes, thou art a man and brother,
+  Though we long have told thee nay;
+And are bound to aid each other,
+  All along our pilgrim way.
+Come and welcome, come and welcome,
+  Join with us to praise and pray!
+
+
+
+O, PITY THE SLAVE MOTHER.
+
+AIR--Araby's Daughter.
+
+
+I pity the slave mother, careworn and weary,
+  Who sighs as she presses her babe to her breast;
+I lament her sad fate, all so hopeless and dreary,
+  I lament for her woes, and her wrongs unredressed.
+O who can imagine her heart's deep emotion,
+  As she thinks of her children about to be sold;
+You may picture the bounds of the rock-girdled ocean,
+  But the grief of that mother can never be known.
+
+The mildew of slavery has blighted each blossom,
+  That ever has bloomed in her path-way below;
+It has froze every fountain that gushed in her bosom,
+  And chilled her heart's verdure with pitiless woe;
+Her parents, her kindred, all crushed by oppression;
+  Her husband still doomed in its desert to stay;
+No arm to protect from the tyrant's aggression--
+  She must weep as she treads on her desolate way.
+
+O, slave mother, hope! see--the nation is shaking!
+  The arm of the Lord is awake to thy wrong!
+The slave-holder's heart now with terror is quaking,
+  Salvation and Mercy to Heaven belong!
+Rejoice, O rejoice! for the child thou art rearing,
+  May one day lift up its unmanacled form,
+While hope, to thy heart, like the rain-bow so cheering,
+  Is born, like the rain-bow, 'mid tempest and storm.
+
+
+
+THE BLIND SLAVE BOY.
+
+AIR--Sweet Afton.
+
+
+Come back to me, mother! why linger away
+From thy poor little blind boy, the long weary day!
+I mark every footstep, I list to each tone,
+And wonder my mother should leave me alone!
+There are voices of sorrow, and voices of glee,
+But there's no one to joy or to sorrow with me;
+For each hath of pleasure and trouble his share,
+And none for the poor little blind boy will care.
+
+My mother, come back to me! close to thy breast
+Once more let thy poor little blind one be pressed;
+Once more let me feel thy warm breath on my cheek,
+And hear thee in accents of tenderness speak!
+O mother! I've no one to love me--no heart
+Can bear like thine own in my sorrows a part;
+No hand is so gentle, no voice is so kind,
+O! none like a mother can cherish the blind!
+
+Poor blind one! No mother thy wailing can hear,
+No mother can hasten to banish thy fear;
+For the slave-owner drives her, o'er mountain and wild,
+And for one paltry dollar hath sold thee, poor child!
+Ah! who can in language of mortals reveal
+The anguish that none but a mother can feel,
+When man in his vile lust of mammon hath trod
+On her child, who is stricken and smitten of God!
+
+Blind, helpless, forsaken, with strangers alone,
+She hears in her anguish his piteous moan,
+As he eagerly listens--but listens in vain,
+To catch the loved tones of his mother again!
+The curse of the broken in spirit shall fall
+On the wretch who hath mingled this wormwood and gall,
+And his gain like a mildew shall blight and destroy,
+Who hath torn from his mother the little blind boy!
+
+
+
+YE SONS OF FREEMEN.
+
+AIR--Marseilles Hymn.
+
+
+Ye sons of freemen wake to sadness,
+  Hark! hark, what myriads bid you rise;
+Three millions of our race in madness
+  Break out in wails, in bitter cries,
+  Break out in wails, in bitter cries,
+Must men whose hearts now bleed with anguish,
+  Yes, trembling slaves in freedom's land,
+  Endure the lash, nor raise a hand?
+Must nature 'neath the whip-cord languish?
+    Have pity on the slave,
+    Take courage from God's word;
+Pray on, pray on, all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free.
+
+The fearful storm--it threatens lowering,
+  Which God in mercy long delays;
+Slaves yet may see their masters cowering,
+  While whole plantations smoke and blaze!
+  While whole plantations smoke and blaze;
+And we may now prevent the ruin,
+  Ere lawless force with guilty stride
+  Shall scatter vengeance far and wide--
+With untold crimes their hands imbruing.
+    Have pity on the slave;
+    Take courage from God's word;
+Pray on, pray on, all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free.
+
+With luxury and wealth surrounded,
+  The southern masters proudly dare,
+With thirst of gold and power unbounded,
+  To mete and vend God's light and air!
+  To mete and vend God's light and air;
+Like beasts of burden, slaves are loaded,
+  Till life's poor toilsome day is o'er;
+  While they in vain for right implore;
+And shall they longer still be goaded?
+    Have pity on the slave;
+    Take courage from God's word;
+Toil on, toil on, all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free.
+
+
+O Liberty! can man e'er bind thee?
+  Can overseers quench thy flame?
+Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee,
+  Or threats thy Heaven-born spirit tame?
+  Or threats thy Heaven-born spirit tame?
+Too long the slave has groaned, bewailing
+  The power these heartless tyrants wield;
+  Yet free them not by sword or shield,
+For with men's hearts they're unavailing;
+    Have pity on the slave;
+    Take courage from God's word;
+Toil on! toil on! all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free!
+
+
+
+FREEDOM'S STAR.
+
+AIR--Silver Moon.
+
+
+As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day,
+  I turned my fond gaze to the sky;
+I beheld all the stars as so sweetly they lay,
+  And but one fixed my heart or my eye.
+Shine on, northern star, thou'rt beautiful and bright
+  To the slave on his journey afar;
+For he speeds from his foes in the darkness of night,
+  Guided on by thy light, freedom's star.
+
+On thee he depends when he threads the dark woods
+  Ere the bloodhounds have hunted him back;
+Thou leadest him on over mountains and floods,
+  With thy beams shining full on his track.
+Shine on, &c.
+
+Unwelcome to him is the bright orb of day,
+  As it glides o'er the earth and the sea;
+He seeks then to hide like a wild beast of prey,
+  But with hope, rests his heart upon thee.
+Shine on, &c.
+
+May never a cloud overshadow thy face,
+  While the slave flies before his pursuer;
+Gleam steadily on to the end of his race,
+  Till his body and soul are secure.
+Shine on, &c.
+
+
+
+THE LIBERTY BALL.
+
+AIR--Rosin the Bow.
+
+
+Come all ye true friends of the nation,
+  Attend to humanity's call;
+Come aid the poor slave's liberation,
+  And roll on the liberty ball--
+    And roll on the liberty ball--
+    Come aid the poor slave's liberation,
+    And roll on the liberty ball.
+
+The Liberty hosts are advancing--
+  For freedom to _all_ they declare;
+The down-trodden millions are sighing--
+  Come, break up our gloom of despair.
+    Come break up our gloom of despair, &c.
+
+Ye Democrats, come to the rescue,
+  And aid on the liberty cause,
+And millions will rise up and bless you,
+  With heart-cheering songs of applause,
+    With heart-cheering songs, &c.
+
+Ye Whigs, forsake slavery's minions,
+  And boldly step into our ranks;
+We care not for party opinions,
+  But invite all the friends of the banks,--
+    And invite all the friends of the banks, &c,
+
+And when we have formed the blest union
+  We'll firmly march on, one and all--
+We'll sing when we meet in communion,
+  And _roll on_ the liberty ball,
+    And roll on the liberty ball, dec.
+
+
+
+EMANCIPATION HYMN OF THE WEST INDIAN NEGROES.
+FOR THE FIRST OF AUGUST CELEBRATION.
+
+
+Praise we the Lord! let songs resound
+  To earth's remotest shore!
+Songs of thanksgiving, songs of praise--
+  For we are slaves no more.
+
+Praise we the Lord! His power hath rent
+  The chains that held us long!
+His voice is mighty, as of old,
+  And still His arm is strong.
+
+Praise we the Lord! His wrath arose,
+  His arm our fetters broke;
+The tyrant dropped the lash, and we
+  To liberty awoke!
+
+Praise we the Lord! let holy songs
+  Rise from these happy isles!--
+O! let us not unworthy prove,
+  On whom His bounty smiles.
+
+And cease we not the fight of faith
+  Till all mankind be free;
+Till mercy o'er the earth shall flow,
+  As waters o'er the sea.
+
+Then shall indeed Messiah's reign
+  Through all the world extend;
+Then swords to ploughshares shall be turned,
+  And Heaven with earth shall blend.
+
+
+
+OVER THE MOUNTAIN.
+
+
+Over the mountain, and over the moor,
+  Hungry and weary I wander forlorn;
+My father is dead, and my mother is poor,
+  And she grieves for the days that will never return;
+    Give me some food for my mother in charity;
+    Give me some food and then I will be gone.
+    Pity, kind gentlemen, friends of humanity,
+    Cold blows the wind and the night's coming on.
+
+Call me not indolent beggar and bold enough,
+  Fain would I learn both to knit and to sew;
+I've two little brothers at home, when they're old enough,
+  They will work hard for the gifts you bestow;
+    Pity, kind gentlemen, friends of humanity.
+    Cold blows the wind, and the night's coming on;
+    Give me some food for my mother in charity,
+    Give me some food, and then I will begone.
+
+
+
+JUBILEE SONG.
+
+Air--Away the Bowl.
+
+
+Our grateful hearts with joy o'erflow,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+We hail the Despot's overthrow,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+No more he'll raise the gory lash,
+And sink it deep in human flesh,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
+
+We raise the song in Freedom's name,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+Her glorious triumph we proclaim,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+Beneath her feet lie Slavery's chains,
+Their power to curse no more remains,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
+
+With joy we'll make the air resound,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+That all may hear the gladsome sound,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+We glory at Oppression's fall,
+The Slave has burst his deadly thrall,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
+
+In mirthful glee we'll dance and sing,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+With shouts we'll make the welkin ring,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+Shout! shout aloud! the bondsman's free!
+This, this is Freedom's jubilee!
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
+
+
+
+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 't is 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!
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+YE SPIRITS OF THE FREE.
+
+AIR--My Faith looks up to thee.
+
+
+Ye spirits of the free,
+Can ye forever see
+  Your brother man
+A yoked and scourged slave,
+Chains dragging to his grave,
+And raise no hand to save?
+  Say if you can.
+
+In pride and pomp to roll,
+Shall tyrants from the soul
+  God's image tear,
+And call the wreck their own,--
+While, from the eternal throne,
+They shut the stifled groan
+  And bitter prayer?
+
+Shall he a slave be bound,
+Whom God hath doubly crowned
+  Creation's lord?
+Shall men of Christian name,
+Without a blush of shame,
+Profess their tyrant claim
+  From God's own word?
+
+No! at the battle cry,
+A host prepared to die,
+  Shall arm for fight--
+But not with martial steel,
+Grasped with a murderous zeal;
+No arms their foes shall feel,
+  But love and light.
+
+Firm on Jehovah's laws,
+Strong in their righteous cause,
+  They march to save.
+And vain the tyrant's mail,
+Against their battle-hail,
+Till cease the woe and wail
+  Of tortured slave!
+
+
+
+COLONIZATION SONG.
+TO THE FREE COLORED PEOPLE.
+
+AIR--Spider and the fly.
+
+
+Will you, will you be colonized?
+Will you, will you be colonized?
+
+'Tis a land that with honey
+And milk doth abound,
+Where the lash is not heard,
+And the scourge is not found.
+  Chorus, Will you, &c.
+
+If you stay in this land
+Where the white man has rule,
+You will starve by his hand,
+In both body and soul.
+  Chorus.
+
+For a nuisance you are,
+In this land of your birth,
+Held down by his hand,
+And crushed to the earth.
+  Chorus.
+
+My religion is pure,
+And came from above,
+But I cannot consent
+The black negro to love.
+  Chorus.
+
+It is true there is judgment
+That hangs o'er the land,
+But 't will all turn aside,
+When you follow the plan.
+  Chorus.
+
+You're ignorant I know,
+In this land of your birth,
+And religion though pure,
+Cannot move the curse.
+  Chorus.
+
+But only consent,
+Though extorted by force,
+What a blessing you'll prove,
+On the African coast.
+  Chorus.
+
+
+
+I AM AN ABOLITIONIST.
+
+AIR--Auld Lang Syne.
+
+
+I am an Abolitionist!
+  I glory in the name:
+Though now by Slavery's minions hiss'd
+  And covered o'er with shame,
+It is a spell of light and power--
+  The watchword of the free:--
+Who spurns it in the trial-hour,
+  A craven soul is he!
+
+I am an Abolitionist!
+  Then urge me not to pause;
+For joyfully do I enlist
+  In FREEDOM'S sacred cause:
+A nobler strife the world ne'er saw,
+  Th' enslaved to disenthral;
+I am a soldier for the war,
+  Whatever may befall!
+
+I am an Abolitionist!
+  Oppression's deadly foe;
+In God's great strength will I resist,
+  And lay the monster low;
+In God's great name do I demand,
+  To all be freedom given,
+That peace and joy may fill the land,
+  And songs go up to heaven!
+
+I am an Abolitionist!
+  No threats shall awe my soul,
+No perils cause me to desist,
+  No bribes my acts control;
+A freeman will I live and die,
+  In sunshine and in shade,
+And raise my voice for liberty,
+  Of nought on earth afraid.
+
+
+
+THE BEREAVED MOTHER.
+
+Air--Kathleen O'More.
+
+
+O, deep was the anguish of the slave mother's heart,
+When called from her darling for ever to part;
+So grieved that lone mother, that heart broken mother,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+The lash of the master her deep sorrows mock,
+While the child of her bosom is sold on the block;
+Yet loud shrieked that mother, poor heart broken mother,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+The babe in return, for its fond mother cries,
+While the sound of their wailings, together arise;
+They shriek for each other, the child and the mother,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+The harsh auctioneer, to sympathy cold,
+Tears the babe from its mother and sells it for gold;
+While the infant and mother, loud shriek for each other,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+At last came the parting of mother and child,
+Her brain reeled with madness, that mother was wild;
+Then the lash could not smother the shrieks of that mother
+  Of sorrow and woe.
+
+The child was borne off to a far distant clime,
+While the mother was left in anguish to pine;
+But reason departed, and she sank broken hearted,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+That poor mourning mother, of reason bereft,
+Soon ended her sorrows and sank cold in death;
+Thus died that slave mother, poor heart broken mother,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+O, list ye kind mothers to the cries of the slave;
+The parents and children implore you to save;
+Go! rescue the mothers, the sisters and brothers,
+  From sorrow and woe.
+
+
+
+THE CHASE.
+
+AIR--Sweet Afton.
+
+
+Quick, fly to the covert, thou hunted of men!
+For the bloodhounds are baying o'er mountain and glen;
+The riders are mounted, the loose rein is given,
+And curses of wrath are ascending to heaven.
+O, speed to thy footsteps! for ruin and death,
+Like the hurricane's rage, gather thick round thy path;
+And the deep muttered curses grow loud and more loud,
+As horse after horse swells the thundering crowd.
+
+Speed, speed, to thy footsteps! thy track has been found;
+Now, _sport_ for the _rider_, and _blood_ for the _hound!_
+Through brake and through forest the man-prey is driven;
+O, help for the hopeless, thou merciful Heaven!
+On! on to the mountain! they're baffled again,
+And hope for the woe-stricken still may remain;
+The fast-flagging steeds are all white with their foam,
+The bloodhounds have turned from the chase to their home.
+
+Joy! joy to the wronged one! the haven he gains,
+Escaped from his thraldom, and freed from his chains!
+The heaven-stamped image--the God-given soul--
+No more shall the spoiler at pleasure control.
+O, shame to Columbia, that on her bright plains,
+Man pines in his fetters, and curses his chains!
+Shame! shame! that her star-spangled banner should wave
+Where the lash is made red in the blood of the slave.
+
+Sons of old Pilgrim Fathers! and are ye thus dumb?
+Shall tyranny triumph, and freedom succumb?
+While mothers are torn from their children apart,
+And agony sunders the cords of the heart?
+Shall the sons of those sires that once spurned the chain,
+Turn bloodhounds to hunt and make captive again?
+O, shame to your honor, and shame to your pride,
+And shame on your memory ever abide!
+
+Will not your old sires start up from the ground,
+At the crack of the whip, and bay of the hound,
+And shaking their skeleton hands in your face,
+Curse the germs that produced such a miscreant race?
+
+O, rouse ye for freedom, before on your path
+Heaven pours without mixture the vials of wrath!
+Loose every hard burden--break off every chain--
+Restore to the bondman his freedom again.
+
+
+
+FLING OUT THE ANTI-SLAVERY FLAG.
+
+AIR--Auld Lang Syne
+
+
+Fling out the Anti-slavery flag
+  On every swelling breeze;
+And let its folds wave o'er the land,
+  And o'er the raging seas,
+Till all beneath the standard sheet,
+  With new allegiance bow;
+And pledge themselves to onward bear
+  The emblem of their vow.
+
+Fling out the Anti-Slavery flag,
+  And let it onward wave
+Till it shall float o'er every clime,
+  And liberate the slave;
+Till, like a meteor flashing far,
+  It bursts with glorious light,
+And with its Heaven-born rays dispels
+  The gloom of sorrow's night.
+
+Fling out the Anti-Slavery flag,
+  And let it not be furled,
+Till like a planet of the skies,
+  It sweeps around the world.
+And when each poor degraded slave,
+  Is gathered near and far;
+O, fix it on the azure arch,
+  As hope's eternal star.
+
+Fling out the Anti-Slavery flag,
+  Forever let it be
+The emblem to a holy cause,
+  The banner of the free.
+And never from its guardian height,
+  Let it by man be driven,
+But let it float forever there,
+  Beneath the smiles of heaven.
+
+
+
+THE YANKEE GIRL.
+
+
+She sings by her wheel at that low cottage door,
+Which the long evening shadow is stretching before;
+With a music as sweet as the music which seems
+Breathed softly and faintly in the ear of our dreams!
+
+How brilliant and mirthful the light of her eye,
+Like a star glancing out from the blue of the sky!
+And lightly and freely her dark tresses play
+O'er a brow and a bosom as lovely as they!
+
+Who comes in his pride to that low cottage door--
+The haughty and rich to the humble and poor?
+'Tis the great Southern planter--the master who waves
+His whip of dominion o'er hundreds of slaves.
+
+"Nay, Ellen, for shame! Let those Yankee fools spin,
+Who would pass for our slaves with a change of their skin;
+Let them toil as they will at the loom or the wheel
+Too stupid for shame and too vulgar to feel!
+
+"But thou art too lovely and precious a gem
+To be bound to their burdens and sullied by them--
+For shame, Ellen, shame!--cast thy bondage aside,
+And away to the South, as my blessing and pride.
+
+"O, come where no winter thy footsteps can wrong,
+But where flowers are blossoming all the year long,
+Where the shade of the palm-tree is over my home,
+And the lemon and orange are white in their bloom!
+
+"O, come to my home, where my servants shall all
+Depart at thy bidding and come at thy call;
+They shall heed thee as mistress with trembling and awe,
+And each wish of thy heart shall be felt as a law."
+
+O, could ye have seen her--that pride of our girls--
+Arise and cast back the dark wealth of her curls,
+With a scorn in her eye which the gazer could feel,
+And a glance like the sunshine that flashes on steel:
+
+"Go back, haughty Southron! thy treasures of gold
+Are dim with the blood of the hearts thou hast sold!
+Thy home may be lovely, but round it I hear
+The crack of the whip and the footsteps of fear!
+
+"And the sky of thy South may be brighter than ours,
+And greener thy landscapes, and fairer thy flowers;
+But, dearer the blast round our mountains which raves,
+Than the sweet sunny zephyr which breathes over slaves!
+
+"Full low at thy bidding thy negroes may kneel,
+With the iron of bondage on spirit and heel;
+Yet know that the Yankee girl sooner would be
+In _fetters_ with _them_, than in freedom with _thee!_"
+
+
+
+From Tait's Edinburgh Magazine.
+
+JEFFERSON'S DAUGHTER.
+
+"It is asserted, on the authority of an American Newspaper, that the
+daughter of Thomas Jefferson, late President of the United States, was
+sold at New Orleans for $1,000."--Morning Chronicle.
+
+
+Can the blood that, at Lexington, poured o'er the plain,
+  When the sons warred with tyrants their rights to uphold,
+Can the tide of Niagara wipe out the stain?
+  No! Jefferson's child has been bartered for gold!
+
+Do you boast of your freedom? Peace, babblers--be still;
+  Prate not of the goddess who scarce deigns to hear;
+Have ye power to unbind? Are ye wanting in will?
+  Must the groans of your bondman still torture the ear?
+
+The daughter of Jefferson sold for a slave!
+  The child of a freeman for dollars and francs!
+The roar of applause, when your orators rave,
+  Is lost in the sound of her chain, as it clanks.
+
+Peace, then, ye blasphemers of Liberty's name!
+  Though red was the blood by your forefathers spilt,
+Still redder your cheeks should be mantled with shame,
+  Till the spirit of freedom shall cancel the guilt.
+
+But the brand of the slave is the tint of his skin,
+  Though his heart may beat loyal and true underneath;
+While the soul of the tyrant is rotten within,
+  And his white the mere cloak to the blackness of death.
+
+Are ye deaf to the plaints that each moment arise?
+  Is it thus ye forget the mild precepts of Penn,--
+Unheeding the clamor that "maddens the skies,"
+  As ye trample the rights of your dark fellow-men?
+
+When the incense that glows before Liberty's shrine,
+  Is unmixed with the blood of the galled and oppressed,
+O, then, and then only, the boast may be thine,
+  That the stripes and stars wave o'er a land of the blest.
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE-AUCTION--A FACT.
+
+
+Why stands she near the auction stand,
+  That girl so young and fair;
+What brings her to this dismal place,
+  Why stands she weeping there?
+
+Why does she raise that bitter cry?
+  Why hangs her head with shame,
+As now the auctioneer's rough voice,
+  So rudely calls her name?
+
+But see! she grasps a manly hand,
+  And in a voice so low,
+As scarcely to be heard, she says,
+  'My brother, must I go?'
+
+A moment's pause: then midst a wail
+  Of agonizing woe,
+His answer falls upon the ear,
+  'Yes, sister, you must go!'
+
+'No longer can my arm defend,
+  No longer can I save
+My sister from the horrid fate
+  That waits her as a SLAVE!'
+
+Ah! now I know why she is there,
+  She came there to be sold!
+That lovely form, that noble mind,
+  Must be exchanged for gold!
+
+O God! my every heart-string cries,
+  Dost thou these scenes behold
+In this our boasted Christian land,
+  And must the truth be told?
+
+Blush, Christian, blush! for e'en the dark
+  Untutored heathen see
+Thy inconsistency, and lo!
+  They scorn thy God, and thee!
+
+
+
+GET OFF THE TRACK.
+
+Air--Dan Tucker.
+
+
+Ho! the car Emancipation
+Rides majestic thro' our nation,
+Bearing on its train the story,
+Liberty! a nation's glory.
+  Roll it along, thro' the nation,
+  Freedom's car, Emancipation!
+
+First of all the train, and greater,
+Speeds the dauntless Liberator,
+Onward cheered amid hosannas,
+And the waving of free banners.
+  Roll it along! spread your banners,
+  While the people shout hosannas.
+
+Men of various predilections,
+Frightened, run in all directions;
+Merchants, editors, physicians,
+Lawyers, priests, and politicians.
+  Get out of the way! every station!
+  Clear the track of 'mancipation!
+
+Let the ministers and churches
+Leave behind sectarian lurches;
+Jump on board the car of Freedom,
+Ere it be too late to need them.
+  Sound the alarm! Pulpits thunder!
+  Ere too late you see your blunder!
+
+Politicians gazed, astounded,
+When, at first, our bell resounded;
+_Freight trains_ are coming, tell these foxes,
+With our _votes_ and _ballot boxes_.
+  Jump for your lives! politicians,
+  From your dangerous, false positions.
+
+All true friends of Emancipation,
+Haste to Freedom's railroad station;
+Quick into the cars get seated,
+All is ready and completed.
+  Put on the steam! all are crying,
+  And the liberty flags are flying.
+
+Now again the bell is tolling,
+Soon you'll see the car-wheels rolling;
+Hinder not their destination,
+Chartered for Emancipation.
+  Wood up the fire! keep it flashing,
+  While the train goes onward dashing.
+
+Hear the mighty car-wheels humming!
+Now look out! _the Engine's coming!_
+Church and statesmen! hear the thunder!
+Clear the track or you'll fall under.
+  Get off the track! all are singing,
+  While the _Liberty bell_ is ringing.
+
+On, triumphant see them bearing,
+Through sectarian rubbish tearing;
+The bell and whistle and the steaming,
+Startle thousands from their dreaming.
+  Look out for the cars while the bell rings!
+  Ere the sound your funeral knell rings.
+
+See the people run to meet us;
+At the depots thousands greet us;
+All take seats with exultation,
+In the Car Emancipation.
+  Huzza! Huzza!! Emancipation
+  Soon will bless our happy nation,
+    Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!!!
+
+
+
+BE FREE, O MAN, BE FREE.
+
+
+The storm-winds wildly blowing,
+  The bursting billows mock,
+As with their foam-crests glowing,
+  They dash the sea-girt rock;
+Amid the wild commotion,
+  The revel of the sea,
+A voice is on the ocean,
+  Be free, O man, be free.
+
+Behold the sea-brine leaping
+  High in the murky air;
+List to the tempest sweeping
+  In chainless fury there.
+What moves the mighty torrent,
+  And bids it flow abroad?
+Or turns the rapid current?
+  What, but the voice of God?
+
+Then, answer, is the spirit
+  Less noble or less free?
+From whom does it inherit
+  The doom of slavery?
+When man can bind the waters,
+  That they no longer roll,
+Then let him forge the fetters
+  To clog the human soul.
+
+Till then a voice is stealing
+  From earth and sea and sky,
+And to the soul revealing
+  Its immortality.
+The swift wind chants the numbers
+  Careering o'er the sea,
+And earth, aroused from slumbers,
+  Re-echoes, "Man, be free."
+
+
+
+THE FUGITIVE SLAVE TO THE CHRISTIAN.
+
+
+The fetters galled my weary soul--
+A soul that seemed but thrown away;
+I spurned the tyrant's base control,
+Resolved at last the man to play:--
+  The hounds are baying on my track;
+  O Christian! will you send me back?
+
+I felt the stripes, the lash I saw,
+Red, dripping with a father's gore;
+And worst of all their lawless law,
+The insults that my mother bore!
+  The hounds are baying on my track,
+  O Christian! will you send me back?
+
+Where human law o'errules Divine,
+Beneath the sheriff's hammer fell
+My wife and babes,--I call them mine,--
+And where they suffer, who can tell?
+  The hounds are baying on my track,
+  O Christian! will you send me back?
+
+I seek a home where man is man,
+If such there be upon this earth,
+To draw my kindred, if I can,
+Around its free, though humble hearth.
+  The hounds are baying on my track,
+  O Christian! will you send me back?
+
+
+
+RESCUE THE SLAVE!
+
+AIR--The Troubadour.
+
+This song was composed while George Latimer, the fugitive slave, was
+confined in Leverett Street Jail, Boston, expecting to be carried back
+to Virginia by James B. Gray, his claimant.
+
+
+Sadly the fugitive weeps in his cell,
+  Listen awhile to the story we tell;
+Listen ye gentle ones, listen ye brave,
+  Lady fair! Lady fair! weep for the slave.
+
+Praying for liberty, dearer than life,
+  Torn from his little one, torn from his wife,
+Flying from slavery, hear him and save,
+  Christian men! Christian men! help the poor slave.
+
+Think of his agony, feel for his pain,
+  Should his hard master e'er hold him again;
+Spirit of liberty, rise from your grave,
+  Make him free, make him free, rescue the slave.
+
+Freely the slave master goes where he will;
+  Freemen, stand ready, his wishes to fulfil,
+Helping the tyrant, or honest or knave,
+  Thinking not, caring not, for the poor slave.
+
+Talk not of liberty, liberty is dead;
+  See the slave master's whip over our head;
+Stooping beneath it, we ask what he craves,
+  Boston boys! Boston boys! catch me my slaves.
+
+Freemen, arouse ye, before it's too late;
+  Slavery is knocking, at every gate,
+Make good the promise, your early days gave,
+  Boston boys! Boston boys! rescue the slave.
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE-HOLDER'S ADDRESS TO THE NORTH STAR.
+
+
+Star of the North! Thou art not bigger
+  Than is the diamond in my ring;
+Yet, every black, star-gazing nigger
+  Looks at thee, as at some great thing!
+Yes, gazes at thee, till the lazy
+  And thankless rascal is half crazy.
+
+Some Abolitionist has told them,
+  That, if they take their flight toward thee,
+They'll get where "massa" cannot hold them,
+  And therefore to the North they flee.
+Fools to be led off, where they can't earn
+  Their living, by thy lying lantern.
+
+We will to New England write,
+  And tell them not to let thee shine
+(Excepting of a cloudy night)
+  Anywhere south of Dixon's line;
+If beyond that thou shine an inch,
+  We'll have thee up before Judge Lynch.
+
+And when, thou Abolition star,
+  Who preachest Freedom in all weathers,
+Thou hast got on thy coat of tar,
+  And over that, a cloak of feathers,
+Thou art "fixed" none will deny,
+  If there's a fixed star in the sky.
+
+
+
+SONG OF THE COFFLE GANG.
+
+This song is said to be sung by Slaves, as they are chained in gangs,
+when parting from friends for the far off South--children taken from
+parents, husbands from wives, and brothers from sisters.
+
+
+  See these poor souls from Africa,
+  Transported to America:
+We are stolen, and sold to Georgia, will you go along with me?
+We are stolen and sold to Georgia, go sound the jubilee.
+
+  See wives and husbands sold apart,
+  The children's screams!--it breaks my heart;
+There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
+There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.
+
+  O, gracious Lord? when shall it be,
+  That we poor souls shall all be free?
+Lord, break them Slavery powers--will you go along with me?
+Lord, break them Slavery powers, go sound the jubilee.
+
+  Dear Lord! dear Lord! when Slavery'll cease,
+  Then we poor souls can have our peace;
+There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
+There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.
+
+
+
+ZAZA--THE FEMALE SLAVE.
+
+
+O, my country, my country!
+  How long I for thee,
+Far over the mountain,
+  Far over the sea.
+Where the sweet Joliba,
+  Kisses the shore,
+Say, shall I wander
+  By thee never more?
+Where the sweet Joliba kisses the shore,
+Say, shall I wander by thee never more.
+
+Say, O fond Zurima,
+  Where dost thou stay?
+Say, doth another
+  List to thy sweet lay?
+Say, doth the orange still
+  Bloom near our cot?
+Zurima, Zurima,
+  Am I forgot?
+O, my country, my country, how long I for thee,
+Far over the mountain, far over the sea.
+
+Under the baobab
+  Oft have I slept,
+Fanned by sweet breezes
+  That over me swept.
+Often in dreams
+  Do my weary limbs lay
+'Neath the same baobab,
+  Far, far away.
+O, my country, my country, how long I for thee,
+Far over the mountain, far over the sea.
+
+O, for the breath
+  Of our own waving palm,
+Here, as I languish,
+  My spirit to calm--
+O, for a draught
+  From our own cooling lake,
+Brought by sweet mother,
+  My spirit to wake.
+O, my country, my country, how long I for thee,
+Far over the mountain, far over the sea.
+
+
+
+YE HERALDS OF FREEDOM.
+
+
+Ye heralds of freedom, ye noble and brave,
+Who dare to insist on the rights of the slave,
+Go onward, go onward, your cause is of God,
+And he will soon sever the oppressor's strong rod.
+
+The finger of slander may now at you point,
+That finger will soon lose the strength of its joint;
+And those who now plead for the rights of the slave,
+Will soon be acknowledged the good and the brave.
+
+Though thrones and dominions, and kingdoms and powers,
+May now all oppose you, the victory is yours;
+The banner of Jesus will soon be unfurled,
+And he will give freedom and peace to the world.
+
+Go under his standard and fight by his side,
+O'er mountains and billows you'll then safely ride;
+His gracious protection will be to you given,
+And bright crowns of glory he'll give you in heaven.
+
+
+
+WE'RE COMING! WE'RE COMING.
+
+AIR--Kinloch of Kinloch.
+
+
+We're coming, we're coming, the fearless and free,
+Like the winds of the desert, the waves of the sea!
+True sons of brave sires who battled of yore,
+When England's proud lion ran wild on our shore!
+We're coming, we're coming, from mountain and glen,
+With hearts to do battle for freedom again;
+Oppression is trembling as trembled before
+The slavery which fled from our fathers of yore.
+
+We're coming, we're coming, with banners unfurled,
+Our motto is FREEDOM, our country the world;
+Our watchword is LIBERTY--tyrants beware!
+For the liberty army will bring you despair!
+We're coming, we're coming, we'll come from afar,
+Our standard we'll nail to humanity's car;
+With shoutings we'll raise it, in triumph to wave,
+A trophy of conquest, or shroud for the brave.
+
+Then arouse ye, brave hearts, to the rescue come on!
+The man-stealing army we'll surely put down;
+They are crushing their millions, but soon they must yield,
+For _freemen_ have _risen_ and taken the field.
+Then arouse ye! arouse ye! the fearless and free,
+Like the winds of the desert, the waves of the sea;
+Let the north, west, and east, to the sea-beaten shore,
+_Resound_ with a _liberty triumph_ once more.
+
+
+
+ON TO VICTORY.
+
+AIR--Scots wha hae.
+
+
+Children of the glorious dead,
+Who for freedom fought and bled,
+With her banner o'er you spread,
+  On to victory.
+Not for stern ambition's prize,
+Do our hopes and wishes rise;
+Lo, our leader from the skies,
+  Bids us do or die.
+
+Ours is not the tented field--
+We no earthly weapons wield--
+Light and love, our sword and shield,
+  Truth our panoply.
+This is proud oppression's hour;
+Storms are round us; shall we cower?
+While beneath a despot's power
+  Groans the suffering slave?
+
+While on every southern gale,
+Comes the helpless captive's tale,
+And the voice of woman's wail,
+  And of man's despair?
+While our homes and rights are dear,
+Guarded still with watchful fear,
+Shall we coldly turn our ear
+  From the suppliant's prayer?
+
+Never! by our Country's shame--
+Never! by a Saviour's claim,
+To the men of every name,
+  Whom he died to save.
+Onward, then, ye fearless band--
+Heart to heart, and hand to hand;
+Yours shall be the patriot's stand,
+  Or the martyr's grave.
+
+
+
+THE MAN FOR ME.
+
+AIR--The Rose that all are praising.
+
+
+O, he is not the man for me,
+  Who buys or sells a slave,
+Nor he who will not set him free,
+  But sends him to his grave;
+But he whose noble heart beats warm
+  For all men's life and liberty;
+Who loves alike each human form,
+  O, that's the man for me.
+
+He's not at all the man for me,
+  Who sells a man for gain,
+Who bends the pliant servile knee,
+  To Slavery's god of shame!
+But he whose God-like form erect
+  Proclaims that all alike are free
+To think, and speak, and vote, and act,
+  O, that's the man for me.
+
+He sure is not the man for me
+  Whose spirit will succumb,
+When men endowed with Liberty
+  Lie bleeding, bound and dumb;
+But he whose faithful words of might
+  Ring through the land from shore to sea,
+For man's eternal equal right,
+  O, that's the man for me.
+
+No, no, he's not the man for me
+  Whose voice o'er hill and plain,
+Breaks forth for glorious liberty,
+  But binds himself, the chain!
+The mightiest of the noble band
+  Who prays and toils the world to free,
+With head, and heart, and voice, and vote,
+  O, that's the man for me.
+
+
+
+THE BONDMAN.
+
+AIR--Troubadour.
+
+
+Feebly the bondman toiled,
+  Sadly he wept--
+Then to his wretched cot
+  Mournfully crept;
+How doth his free-born soul
+  Pine 'neath his chain!
+Slavery! Slavery!
+  Dark is thy reign.
+
+Long ere the break of day,
+  Roused from repose,
+Wearily toiling
+  Till after its close--
+Praying for freedom,
+  He spends his last breath:
+Liberty! Liberty!
+  Give me or death.
+
+When, when, O Lord! will right
+  Triumph o'er wrong?
+Tyrants oppress the weak,
+  O Lord! how long?
+Hark! hark! a peal resounds
+  From shore to shore--
+Tyranny! Tyranny!
+  Thy reign is o'er.
+
+E'en now the morning
+  Gleams from the East--
+Despots are feeling
+  Their triumph is past--
+Strong hearts are answering
+  To freedom's loud call--
+Liberty! Liberty!
+  Full and for all.
+
+
+
+RIGHT ON.
+
+AIR--Lenox.
+
+
+Ho! children of the brave,
+  Ho! freemen of the land,
+That hurl'd into the grave
+  Oppression's bloody band;
+Come on, come on, and joined be we
+To make the fettered bondman free.
+
+Let coward vassals sneak
+  From freedom's battle still,
+Poltroons that dare not speak
+  But as their priests may will;
+Come on, come on, and joined be we
+To make the fettered bondman free.
+
+On parchment, scroll and creed,
+  With human life blood red,
+Untrembling at the deed,
+  Plant firm your manly tread;
+The priest may howl, the jurist rave,
+But we will free the fettered slave.
+
+The tyrant's scorn is vain,
+  In vain the slanderer's breath,
+We'll rush to break the chain,
+  E'en on the jaws of death;
+Hurrah! Hurrah! right on go we,
+The fettered slave shall yet be free.
+
+Right on, in freedom's name,
+  And in the strength of God,
+Wipe out the damning stain,
+  And break the oppressor's rod;
+Hurrah! Hurrah! right on go we,
+The fettered slave shall yet be free.
+
+
+
+FUGITIVE'S TRIUMPH.
+
+
+Go, go, thou that enslav'st me,
+  Now, now thy power is o'er;
+Long, long have I obeyed thee,
+  I'm not a slave any more;
+    No, no--oh, no!
+I'm a _free man_ ever more!
+
+Thou, thou brought'st me ever,
+  Deep, deep sorrow and pain;
+But I have left thee forever,
+  Nor will I serve thee again;
+    No, no--oh, no!
+No, I'll not serve thee again.
+
+Tyrant! thou hast bereft me
+  Home, friends, pleasures so sweet;
+Now, forever I've left thee,
+  Thou and I never shall meet;
+    No, no--oh, no!
+Thou and I never shall meet.
+
+Joys, joys, bright as the morning,
+  Now, now, on me will pour,
+Hope, hope, on me is dawning,
+  _I'm not a slave any more!_
+    No, no--oh, no,
+I'm a FREE MAN evermore!
+
+
+
+A SONG FOR FREEDOM.
+
+AIR--Dandy Jim.
+
+
+Come all ye bondmen far and near,
+Let's put a song in massa's ear,
+It is a song for our poor race,
+Who're whipped and trampled with disgrace.
+
+Chorus.
+My old massa tells me O
+This is a land of freedom O;
+Let's look about and see if't is so,
+Just as massa tells me O.
+
+He tells us of that glorious one,
+I think his name was Washington,
+How he did fight for liberty,
+To save a threepence tax on tea.
+
+Chorus.
+My old massa, &c.
+
+And then he tells us that there was
+A Constitution, with this clause,
+That all men equal were created,
+How often have we heard it stated.
+
+Chorus.
+My old massa, &c.
+
+But now we look about and see,
+That we poor blacks are not so free;
+We 're whipped and thrashed about like fools,
+And have no chance at common schools.
+
+Chorus.
+Still, my old massa, &c.
+
+They take our wives, insult and mock,
+And sell our children on the block,
+Then choke us if we say a word,
+And say that "niggers" shan't be heard.
+
+Chorus.
+Still, my old massa, &c.
+
+Our preachers, too, with whip and cord,
+Command obedience in the Lord;
+They say they learn it from the book,
+But for ourselves we dare not look.
+
+Chorus.
+Still, my old massa tells me O,
+This is a _Christian_ country O, &c.
+
+There is a country far away,
+Friend Hopper says 't is Canada,
+And if we reach Victoria's shore,
+He says that we are slaves no more.
+
+Chorus.
+Now hasten all bondmen, let us go
+And leave this Christian country O;
+Haste to the land of the British Queen,
+Where whips for negroes are not seen.
+
+Now if we go, we must take the night--
+We're sure to die if we come in sight--
+The blood-hounds will be on our track,
+And wo to us if they fetch us back.
+
+Chorus.
+Now haste all bondmen, let us go,
+And leave this _Christian_ country O;
+God help us to Victoria's shore,
+Where we are free and slaves no more.
+
+
+
+FREEDOM'S BANNER.
+
+AIR--Freedom's Banner.
+
+
+My country, shall thy honored name,
+  Be as a by-word through the world?
+Rouse! for as if to blast thy fame,
+  This keen reproach is at thee hurled;
+The banner that above thee waves,
+  Is floating over three millions slaves.
+
+That flag, my country, I had thought,
+  From noble sires was given to thee,
+By the best blood of patriots bought,
+  To wave alone above the Free!
+Yet now, while to the breeze it waves,
+  It floats above three millions slaves,
+
+The mighty dead that flag unrolled,
+  They bathed it in the heaven's own blue;
+They sprinkled stars upon each fold,
+  And gave it as a trust to you;
+And now that glorious banner waves
+  In shame above three millions slaves.
+
+O, by the virtues of our sires,
+  And by the soil on which they trod,
+And by the trust their name inspires,
+  And by the hope we have in God,
+Arouse, my country, and agree
+  To set thy captive children free.
+
+Arouse! and let each hill and glen
+  With prayer to the high heavens ring out,
+Till all our land with freeborn men,
+  May join in one triumphant shout,
+That freedom's banner does not wave
+  Its folds above a single slave.
+
+
+
+YOUR BROTHER IS A SLAVE.
+
+
+O weep, ye friends of Freedom, weep!
+  Shout liberty no more;
+Your harps to mournful measures sweep,
+  Till slavery's reign is o'er.
+O, furl your star-lit thing of light--
+  That banner should not wave
+Where, vainly pleading for his right,
+  Your Brother toils--_a Slave!_
+
+O pray, ye friends of Freedom, pray
+  For those who toil in chains,
+Who lift their fettered hands to day
+  On Carolina's plain!
+God is the hope of the Oppressed;
+  His arm is strong to save;
+Pray, then, that freedom's cause be blest,
+  Your Brother is _a Slave!_
+
+O toil, ye friends of Freedom, toil!
+  Your mission to fulfil,--
+That Freedom's consecrated soil
+  Slaves may no longer till;
+Ay, toil and pray from deep disgrace
+  Your native land to save;
+Weep o'er the miseries of your race,
+  _Your Brother is a Slave!_
+
+
+
+COME JOIN THE ABOLITIONISTS.
+
+AIR--When I can read my title clear.
+
+
+  Come join the Abolitionists,
+    Ye young men bold and strong.
+  And with a warm and cheerful zeal,
+    Come help the cause along;
+O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
+O that will be joyful, when Slavery is no more,
+When Slavery is no more.
+  'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
+  When Slavery is no more.
+
+  Come join the Abolitionists,
+    Ye men of riper years,
+  And save your wives and children dear,
+    From grief and bitter tears;
+O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
+O that will be joyful, when Slavery is no more,
+When Slavery is no more,
+  'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
+  When Slavery is no more.
+
+  Come join the Abolitionists,
+    Ye dames and maidens fair,
+  And breathe around us in our path
+    Affection's hallowed air;
+O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
+O that will be joyful, when woman cheers us on,
+When woman cheers us on, to conquests not yet won.
+  'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
+  When woman cheers us on.
+
+  Come join the Abolitionists,
+    Ye sons and daughters all
+  Of this our own America--
+    Come at the friendly call;
+O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
+O that will be joyful, when all shall proudly say,
+This, this is Freedom's day--Oppression flee away!
+  'T is then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
+  When freedom wins the day.
+
+
+
+THERE'S A GOOD TIME COMING.
+
+
+There's a good time coming boys,
+  A good time coming;
+There's a good time coming boys,
+  Wait a little longer.
+We may not live to see the day,
+But earth shall glisten in the ray
+  Of the good time coming;
+Cannon balls may aid the truth,
+  But thought's a weapon stronger;
+We'll win our battle by its aid,
+  Wait a little longer.
+  O, there's a good time, &c.
+
+There's a good time coming boys,
+  A good time coming;
+The pen shall supersede the sword,
+And right, not might shall be the lord,
+  In the good time coming.
+Worth, not birth shall rule mankind,
+  And be acknowledged stronger,
+The proper impulse has been given,
+  Wait a little longer.
+  O, there's a good time, &c.
+
+There's a good time coming boys,
+  A good time coming;
+Hateful rivalries of creed,
+Shall not make their martyrs bleed,
+  In the good time coming.
+Religion shall be shorn of pride,
+  And flourish all the stronger;
+And Charity shall trim her lamp,
+  Wait a little longer.
+  O, there's a good time, &c.
+
+There's a good time coming boys,
+  A good time coming;
+War in all men's eyes shall be,
+A monster of iniquity,
+  In the good time coming.
+Nations shall not quarrel then,
+  To prove which is the stronger;
+Nor slaughter men for glory's sake,
+  Wait a little longer.
+  O, there's a good time, &c.
+
+
+
+THE BIGOT FIRE.
+
+Written on the occasion of George Latimer's Imprisonment in Levorott street
+Jail, Boston.
+
+
+O, kindle not that bigot fire,
+  'T will bring disunion, fear and pain;
+'T will rouse at last the souther's ire,
+  And burst our starry land in twain.
+
+Theirs is the high, the noble worth,
+  The very soul of chivalry;
+Rend not our blood-bought land apart,
+  For such a thing as slavery.
+
+This is the language of the North,
+  I shame to say it but't is true;
+And anti-slavery calls it forth,
+  From some proud priests and laymen too.
+
+What! bend forsooth to southern rule?
+  What! cringe and crawl to souther's clay,
+And be the base, the supple tool,
+  Of hell-begotten slavery?
+
+No! never, while the free air plays
+  O'er our rough hills and sunny fountains,
+Shall proud New England's sons be _free_,
+  And clank their fetters round her mountains.
+
+Go if ye will and grind in dust,
+  Dark Afric's poor, degraded child;
+Wring from his sinews gold accursed,
+  And boast your gospel warm and mild.
+
+While on our mountain tops the pine
+  In freedom her green branches wave,
+Her sons shall never stoop to bind
+  The galling shackle of the slave.
+
+Ye dare demand with haughty tone,
+  For us to pander to your shame,
+To give our brother up alone,
+  To feel the lash and wear the chain.
+
+Our brother never shall go back,
+  When once he presses our free shore;
+Though souther's power with hell to back,
+  Comes thundering at our northern door.
+
+No! rather be our starry land,
+  Into a thousand fragments riven;
+Upon our own free hills we'll stand,
+  And pour upon the breeze of heaven,
+A curse so loud, so stern, so deep,
+  Shall start ye in your guilty sleep.
+
+
+
+OFT IN THE CHILLY NIGHT.
+
+
+Oft in the chilly night,
+  Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
+When all her silvery light
+  The moon is pouring round me,
+Beneath its ray I kneel and pray
+  That God would give some token
+That slavery's chains on Southern plains,
+  Shall all ere long be broken;
+Yes, in the chilly night,
+  Though slavery's chain has bound me,
+Kneel I, and feel the might
+  Of God's right arm around me.
+
+When at the driver's call,
+  In cold or sultry weather,
+We slaves, both great and small,
+  Turn out to toil together,
+I feel like one from whom the sun
+  Of hope has long departed;
+And morning's light, and weary night,
+  Still find me broken hearted;
+Thus, when the chilly breath
+  Of night is sighing round me,
+Kneel I, and wish that death
+  In his cold chain had bound me.
+
+
+
+ARE YE TRULY FREE?
+
+AIR--Martyn.
+
+
+Men! whose boast it is that ye
+Come of fathers brave and free;
+If there breathe on earth a slave,
+Are ye truly free and brave?
+Are ye not base slaves indeed,
+Men unworthy to be freed,
+If ye do not feel the chain,
+When it works a brother's pain?
+
+Women! who shall one day bear
+Sons to breathe God's bounteous air,
+If ye hear without a blush,
+Deeds to make the roused blood rush
+Like red lava through your veins,
+For your sisters now in chains;
+Answer! are ye fit to be
+Mothers of the brave and free?
+
+Is true freedom but to break
+Fetters for our own dear sake,
+And, with leathern hearts forget
+That we owe mankind a debt?
+No! true freedom is to share
+All the chains our brothers wear,
+And with hand and heart to be
+Earnest to make others free.
+
+They are slaves who fear to speak
+For the fallen and the weak;
+They are slaves, who will not choose
+Hatred, scoffing, and abuse,
+Rather than, in silence, shrink
+From the truth they needs must think;
+They are slaves, who dare not be
+In the right with _two_ or _three_.
+
+
+
+EMANCIPATION SONG.
+
+AIR--Crambambule.
+
+
+Let waiting throngs now lift their voices,
+  As Freedom's glorious day draws near,
+While every gentle tongue rejoices,
+  And each bold heart is filled with cheer;
+The slave has seen the Northern star,
+He'll soon be free, hurrah, hurrah!
+
+Though many still are writhing under
+  The cruel whips of "chevaliers,"
+Who mothers from their children sunder,
+  And scourge them for their helpless tears--
+Their safe deliverance is not far!
+The day draws nigh!--hurrah, hurrah!
+
+Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest
+  Surrounds the earth as with a pall;
+Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest,
+  That on thy sight the rays may fall!
+No doubt let now thy bosom mar;
+Send up the shout--hurrah, hurrah!
+
+Shall we distrust the God of Heaven?--
+  He every doubt and fear will quell;
+By him the captive's chains are riven--
+  So let us loud the chorus swell!
+Man shall be free from cruel law,--
+Man shall be MAN!--hurrah, hurrah!
+
+No more again shall it be granted
+  To southern overseers to rule--
+No more will pilgrims' sons be taunted
+  With cringing low in slavery's school.
+So clear the way for Freedom's car--
+The free shall rule!--hurrah, hurrah!
+
+Send up the shout Emancipation--
+  From heaven let the echoes bound--
+Soon will it bless this franchised nation,
+  Come raise again the stirring sound!
+Emancipation near and far--
+Swell up the shout--hurrah! hurrah!
+
+
+
+WHAT MEAN YE?
+
+AIR--Ortonville.
+
+
+What mean ye that ye bruise and bind
+  My people, saith the Lord,
+And starve your craving brother's mind,
+  Who asks to hear my word?
+
+What mean ye that ye make them toil,
+  Through long and dreary years,
+And shed like rain upon your soil
+  Their blood and bitter tears?
+
+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.
+
+
+The night is dark, and keen the air,
+And the Slave is flying to be free;
+His parting word is one short prayer;
+O God, but give me Liberty!
+  Farewell--farewell;
+Behind I leave the whips and chains,
+Before me spreads sweet Freedom's plains.
+
+One star shines in the heavens above,
+That guides him on his lonely way;--
+Star of the North--how deep his love
+For thee, thou star of Liberty!
+  Farewell--farewell;
+Behind he leaves the whips and chains,
+Before him spreads sweet Freedom's plains.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX.
+
+Am I not a Man and Brother?                  A.C.L.
+O, Pity the Slave Mother.      Words from Liberator
+The Blind Slave Boy.                    Mrs. Bailey
+Ye Sons of Freemen.                Mrs. J.G. Carter
+Freedom's Star.                              Harris
+Liberty Ball.                                Clarke
+Emancipation Hymn.
+Over the Mountain.                J. Hutchinson Jr.
+Jubilee Song.
+Spirit of Freemen, Wake.
+Slave's Lamentation.                  Parody Tucker
+Flight of the Bondman.                        Smith
+Sweets of Liberty.
+Ye Spirits of the Free.
+Colonization Song.                    A Slaveholder
+I am an Abolitionist.                      Garrison
+The Bereaved Mother.                  J. Hutchinson
+The Chase.                     Douglass' North Star
+Fling out the Anti Slavery Flag.
+The Yankee Girl.                           Whittier
+Jefferson's Daughter.
+The Auction.
+Get off the Track.                J. Hutchinson Jr.
+Be Free, O Man, be Free.               M.H. Maxwell
+Fugitive Slave to the Christian.      E. Wright Jr.
+Rescue the Slave.                   Latimer Journal
+Slave-holder to the North Star.            Pierpont
+The Coffle Gang.                            A Slave
+Zaza, the Female Slave.                   Miss Ball
+We're Coming.
+On to Victory.
+The Man for me.                       Parody Tucker
+The Bondman.                   Words from Liberator
+Right On.                               A Christian
+Fugitive's Triumph.
+Freedom's Banner.                      R.C. Wateson
+Good Time Coming.                 J. Hutchinson Jr.
+A Song for Freedom.
+Your Brother is a Slave.                D.H. Jaques
+Come Join the Abolitionists.
+The Bigot Fire.                       John Ramsdale
+Oft in the Chilly Night.                   Pierpont
+Are ye Truly Free?                      J.R. Lowell
+Emancipation Song.                   Bangor Gazette
+What mean ye?
+Light of Truth.                      Oliver Johnson
+Flying Slave.                        Bangor Gazette
+Ye Heralds of Freedom.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10448 ***
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+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
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+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #10448 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10448)
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Anti-Slavery Harp, by Various, Edited by
+William W. Brown
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Anti-Slavery Harp
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: December 13, 2003  [eBook #10448]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ANTI-SLAVERY HARP***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Sean C. Sieger and Project Gutenberg Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+THE ANTI-SLAVERY HARP:
+
+A COLLECTION OF SONGS FOR ANTI-SLAVERY MEETINGS
+
+COMPILED BY
+
+WILLIAM W. BROWN,
+
+A FUGITIVE SLAVE.
+
+1848.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The demand of the public for a cheap Anti-Slavery Song-Book,
+containing Songs of a more recent composition, has induced me
+to collect together, and present to the public, the songs contained
+in this book.
+
+In making this collection, however, I am indebted to the authors
+of the "Liberty Minstrel," and "the Anti-Slavery Melodies,"
+But the larger portion of these songs has never before been published;
+some have never been in print.
+
+To all true friends of the Slave, the Anti-Slavery Harp is
+respectfully dedicated,
+
+W. W. BROWN.
+
+BOSTON, JUNE, 1848.
+
+
+
+
+SONGS.
+
+
+
+HAVE WE NOT ALL ONE FATHER?
+
+
+
+
+AM I NOT A MAN AND BROTHER?
+
+AIR--Bride's Farewell.
+
+
+Am I not a man and brother?
+  Ought I not, then, to be free?
+Sell me not one to another,
+  Take not thus my liberty.
+Christ our Saviour, Christ our Saviour,
+  Died for me as well as thee.
+
+Am I not a man and brother?
+  Have I not a soul to save?
+Oh, do not my spirit smother,
+  Making me a wretched slave;
+God of mercy, God of mercy,
+  Let me fill a freeman's grave!
+
+Yes, thou art a man and brother,
+  Though thou long hast groaned a slave,
+Bound with cruel cords and tether
+  From the cradle to the grave!
+Yet the Saviour, yet the Saviour,
+  Bled and died all souls to save.
+
+Yes, thou art a man and brother,
+  Though we long have told thee nay;
+And are bound to aid each other,
+  All along our pilgrim way.
+Come and welcome, come and welcome,
+  Join with us to praise and pray!
+
+
+
+O, PITY THE SLAVE MOTHER.
+
+AIR--Araby's Daughter.
+
+
+I pity the slave mother, careworn and weary,
+  Who sighs as she presses her babe to her breast;
+I lament her sad fate, all so hopeless and dreary,
+  I lament for her woes, and her wrongs unredressed.
+O who can imagine her heart's deep emotion,
+  As she thinks of her children about to be sold;
+You may picture the bounds of the rock-girdled ocean,
+  But the grief of that mother can never be known.
+
+The mildew of slavery has blighted each blossom,
+  That ever has bloomed in her path-way below;
+It has froze every fountain that gushed in her bosom,
+  And chilled her heart's verdure with pitiless woe;
+Her parents, her kindred, all crushed by oppression;
+  Her husband still doomed in its desert to stay;
+No arm to protect from the tyrant's aggression--
+  She must weep as she treads on her desolate way.
+
+O, slave mother, hope! see--the nation is shaking!
+  The arm of the Lord is awake to thy wrong!
+The slave-holder's heart now with terror is quaking,
+  Salvation and Mercy to Heaven belong!
+Rejoice, O rejoice! for the child thou art rearing,
+  May one day lift up its unmanacled form,
+While hope, to thy heart, like the rain-bow so cheering,
+  Is born, like the rain-bow, 'mid tempest and storm.
+
+
+
+THE BLIND SLAVE BOY.
+
+AIR--Sweet Afton.
+
+
+Come back to me, mother! why linger away
+From thy poor little blind boy, the long weary day!
+I mark every footstep, I list to each tone,
+And wonder my mother should leave me alone!
+There are voices of sorrow, and voices of glee,
+But there's no one to joy or to sorrow with me;
+For each hath of pleasure and trouble his share,
+And none for the poor little blind boy will care.
+
+My mother, come back to me! close to thy breast
+Once more let thy poor little blind one be pressed;
+Once more let me feel thy warm breath on my cheek,
+And hear thee in accents of tenderness speak!
+O mother! I've no one to love me--no heart
+Can bear like thine own in my sorrows a part;
+No hand is so gentle, no voice is so kind,
+O! none like a mother can cherish the blind!
+
+Poor blind one! No mother thy wailing can hear,
+No mother can hasten to banish thy fear;
+For the slave-owner drives her, o'er mountain and wild,
+And for one paltry dollar hath sold thee, poor child!
+Ah! who can in language of mortals reveal
+The anguish that none but a mother can feel,
+When man in his vile lust of mammon hath trod
+On her child, who is stricken and smitten of God!
+
+Blind, helpless, forsaken, with strangers alone,
+She hears in her anguish his piteous moan,
+As he eagerly listens--but listens in vain,
+To catch the loved tones of his mother again!
+The curse of the broken in spirit shall fall
+On the wretch who hath mingled this wormwood and gall,
+And his gain like a mildew shall blight and destroy,
+Who hath torn from his mother the little blind boy!
+
+
+
+YE SONS OF FREEMEN.
+
+AIR--Marseilles Hymn.
+
+
+Ye sons of freemen wake to sadness,
+  Hark! hark, what myriads bid you rise;
+Three millions of our race in madness
+  Break out in wails, in bitter cries,
+  Break out in wails, in bitter cries,
+Must men whose hearts now bleed with anguish,
+  Yes, trembling slaves in freedom's land,
+  Endure the lash, nor raise a hand?
+Must nature 'neath the whip-cord languish?
+    Have pity on the slave,
+    Take courage from God's word;
+Pray on, pray on, all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free.
+
+The fearful storm--it threatens lowering,
+  Which God in mercy long delays;
+Slaves yet may see their masters cowering,
+  While whole plantations smoke and blaze!
+  While whole plantations smoke and blaze;
+And we may now prevent the ruin,
+  Ere lawless force with guilty stride
+  Shall scatter vengeance far and wide--
+With untold crimes their hands imbruing.
+    Have pity on the slave;
+    Take courage from God's word;
+Pray on, pray on, all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free.
+
+With luxury and wealth surrounded,
+  The southern masters proudly dare,
+With thirst of gold and power unbounded,
+  To mete and vend God's light and air!
+  To mete and vend God's light and air;
+Like beasts of burden, slaves are loaded,
+  Till life's poor toilsome day is o'er;
+  While they in vain for right implore;
+And shall they longer still be goaded?
+    Have pity on the slave;
+    Take courage from God's word;
+Toil on, toil on, all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free.
+
+
+O Liberty! can man e'er bind thee?
+  Can overseers quench thy flame?
+Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee,
+  Or threats thy Heaven-born spirit tame?
+  Or threats thy Heaven-born spirit tame?
+Too long the slave has groaned, bewailing
+  The power these heartless tyrants wield;
+  Yet free them not by sword or shield,
+For with men's hearts they're unavailing;
+    Have pity on the slave;
+    Take courage from God's word;
+Toil on! toil on! all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free!
+
+
+
+FREEDOM'S STAR.
+
+AIR--Silver Moon.
+
+
+As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day,
+  I turned my fond gaze to the sky;
+I beheld all the stars as so sweetly they lay,
+  And but one fixed my heart or my eye.
+Shine on, northern star, thou'rt beautiful and bright
+  To the slave on his journey afar;
+For he speeds from his foes in the darkness of night,
+  Guided on by thy light, freedom's star.
+
+On thee he depends when he threads the dark woods
+  Ere the bloodhounds have hunted him back;
+Thou leadest him on over mountains and floods,
+  With thy beams shining full on his track.
+Shine on, &c.
+
+Unwelcome to him is the bright orb of day,
+  As it glides o'er the earth and the sea;
+He seeks then to hide like a wild beast of prey,
+  But with hope, rests his heart upon thee.
+Shine on, &c.
+
+May never a cloud overshadow thy face,
+  While the slave flies before his pursuer;
+Gleam steadily on to the end of his race,
+  Till his body and soul are secure.
+Shine on, &c.
+
+
+
+THE LIBERTY BALL.
+
+AIR--Rosin the Bow.
+
+
+Come all ye true friends of the nation,
+  Attend to humanity's call;
+Come aid the poor slave's liberation,
+  And roll on the liberty ball--
+    And roll on the liberty ball--
+    Come aid the poor slave's liberation,
+    And roll on the liberty ball.
+
+The Liberty hosts are advancing--
+  For freedom to _all_ they declare;
+The down-trodden millions are sighing--
+  Come, break up our gloom of despair.
+    Come break up our gloom of despair, &c.
+
+Ye Democrats, come to the rescue,
+  And aid on the liberty cause,
+And millions will rise up and bless you,
+  With heart-cheering songs of applause,
+    With heart-cheering songs, &c.
+
+Ye Whigs, forsake slavery's minions,
+  And boldly step into our ranks;
+We care not for party opinions,
+  But invite all the friends of the banks,--
+    And invite all the friends of the banks, &c,
+
+And when we have formed the blest union
+  We'll firmly march on, one and all--
+We'll sing when we meet in communion,
+  And _roll on_ the liberty ball,
+    And roll on the liberty ball, dec.
+
+
+
+EMANCIPATION HYMN OF THE WEST INDIAN NEGROES.
+FOR THE FIRST OF AUGUST CELEBRATION.
+
+
+Praise we the Lord! let songs resound
+  To earth's remotest shore!
+Songs of thanksgiving, songs of praise--
+  For we are slaves no more.
+
+Praise we the Lord! His power hath rent
+  The chains that held us long!
+His voice is mighty, as of old,
+  And still His arm is strong.
+
+Praise we the Lord! His wrath arose,
+  His arm our fetters broke;
+The tyrant dropped the lash, and we
+  To liberty awoke!
+
+Praise we the Lord! let holy songs
+  Rise from these happy isles!--
+O! let us not unworthy prove,
+  On whom His bounty smiles.
+
+And cease we not the fight of faith
+  Till all mankind be free;
+Till mercy o'er the earth shall flow,
+  As waters o'er the sea.
+
+Then shall indeed Messiah's reign
+  Through all the world extend;
+Then swords to ploughshares shall be turned,
+  And Heaven with earth shall blend.
+
+
+
+OVER THE MOUNTAIN.
+
+
+Over the mountain, and over the moor,
+  Hungry and weary I wander forlorn;
+My father is dead, and my mother is poor,
+  And she grieves for the days that will never return;
+    Give me some food for my mother in charity;
+    Give me some food and then I will be gone.
+    Pity, kind gentlemen, friends of humanity,
+    Cold blows the wind and the night's coming on.
+
+Call me not indolent beggar and bold enough,
+  Fain would I learn both to knit and to sew;
+I've two little brothers at home, when they're old enough,
+  They will work hard for the gifts you bestow;
+    Pity, kind gentlemen, friends of humanity.
+    Cold blows the wind, and the night's coming on;
+    Give me some food for my mother in charity,
+    Give me some food, and then I will begone.
+
+
+
+JUBILEE SONG.
+
+Air--Away the Bowl.
+
+
+Our grateful hearts with joy o'erflow,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+We hail the Despot's overthrow,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+No more he'll raise the gory lash,
+And sink it deep in human flesh,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
+
+We raise the song in Freedom's name,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+Her glorious triumph we proclaim,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+Beneath her feet lie Slavery's chains,
+Their power to curse no more remains,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
+
+With joy we'll make the air resound,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+That all may hear the gladsome sound,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+We glory at Oppression's fall,
+The Slave has burst his deadly thrall,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
+
+In mirthful glee we'll dance and sing,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+With shouts we'll make the welkin ring,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+Shout! shout aloud! the bondsman's free!
+This, this is Freedom's jubilee!
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
+  Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
+
+
+
+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 't is 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!
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+YE SPIRITS OF THE FREE.
+
+AIR--My Faith looks up to thee.
+
+
+Ye spirits of the free,
+Can ye forever see
+  Your brother man
+A yoked and scourged slave,
+Chains dragging to his grave,
+And raise no hand to save?
+  Say if you can.
+
+In pride and pomp to roll,
+Shall tyrants from the soul
+  God's image tear,
+And call the wreck their own,--
+While, from the eternal throne,
+They shut the stifled groan
+  And bitter prayer?
+
+Shall he a slave be bound,
+Whom God hath doubly crowned
+  Creation's lord?
+Shall men of Christian name,
+Without a blush of shame,
+Profess their tyrant claim
+  From God's own word?
+
+No! at the battle cry,
+A host prepared to die,
+  Shall arm for fight--
+But not with martial steel,
+Grasped with a murderous zeal;
+No arms their foes shall feel,
+  But love and light.
+
+Firm on Jehovah's laws,
+Strong in their righteous cause,
+  They march to save.
+And vain the tyrant's mail,
+Against their battle-hail,
+Till cease the woe and wail
+  Of tortured slave!
+
+
+
+COLONIZATION SONG.
+TO THE FREE COLORED PEOPLE.
+
+AIR--Spider and the fly.
+
+
+Will you, will you be colonized?
+Will you, will you be colonized?
+
+'Tis a land that with honey
+And milk doth abound,
+Where the lash is not heard,
+And the scourge is not found.
+  Chorus, Will you, &c.
+
+If you stay in this land
+Where the white man has rule,
+You will starve by his hand,
+In both body and soul.
+  Chorus.
+
+For a nuisance you are,
+In this land of your birth,
+Held down by his hand,
+And crushed to the earth.
+  Chorus.
+
+My religion is pure,
+And came from above,
+But I cannot consent
+The black negro to love.
+  Chorus.
+
+It is true there is judgment
+That hangs o'er the land,
+But 't will all turn aside,
+When you follow the plan.
+  Chorus.
+
+You're ignorant I know,
+In this land of your birth,
+And religion though pure,
+Cannot move the curse.
+  Chorus.
+
+But only consent,
+Though extorted by force,
+What a blessing you'll prove,
+On the African coast.
+  Chorus.
+
+
+
+I AM AN ABOLITIONIST.
+
+AIR--Auld Lang Syne.
+
+
+I am an Abolitionist!
+  I glory in the name:
+Though now by Slavery's minions hiss'd
+  And covered o'er with shame,
+It is a spell of light and power--
+  The watchword of the free:--
+Who spurns it in the trial-hour,
+  A craven soul is he!
+
+I am an Abolitionist!
+  Then urge me not to pause;
+For joyfully do I enlist
+  In FREEDOM'S sacred cause:
+A nobler strife the world ne'er saw,
+  Th' enslaved to disenthral;
+I am a soldier for the war,
+  Whatever may befall!
+
+I am an Abolitionist!
+  Oppression's deadly foe;
+In God's great strength will I resist,
+  And lay the monster low;
+In God's great name do I demand,
+  To all be freedom given,
+That peace and joy may fill the land,
+  And songs go up to heaven!
+
+I am an Abolitionist!
+  No threats shall awe my soul,
+No perils cause me to desist,
+  No bribes my acts control;
+A freeman will I live and die,
+  In sunshine and in shade,
+And raise my voice for liberty,
+  Of nought on earth afraid.
+
+
+
+THE BEREAVED MOTHER.
+
+Air--Kathleen O'More.
+
+
+O, deep was the anguish of the slave mother's heart,
+When called from her darling for ever to part;
+So grieved that lone mother, that heart broken mother,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+The lash of the master her deep sorrows mock,
+While the child of her bosom is sold on the block;
+Yet loud shrieked that mother, poor heart broken mother,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+The babe in return, for its fond mother cries,
+While the sound of their wailings, together arise;
+They shriek for each other, the child and the mother,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+The harsh auctioneer, to sympathy cold,
+Tears the babe from its mother and sells it for gold;
+While the infant and mother, loud shriek for each other,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+At last came the parting of mother and child,
+Her brain reeled with madness, that mother was wild;
+Then the lash could not smother the shrieks of that mother
+  Of sorrow and woe.
+
+The child was borne off to a far distant clime,
+While the mother was left in anguish to pine;
+But reason departed, and she sank broken hearted,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+That poor mourning mother, of reason bereft,
+Soon ended her sorrows and sank cold in death;
+Thus died that slave mother, poor heart broken mother,
+  In sorrow and woe.
+
+O, list ye kind mothers to the cries of the slave;
+The parents and children implore you to save;
+Go! rescue the mothers, the sisters and brothers,
+  From sorrow and woe.
+
+
+
+THE CHASE.
+
+AIR--Sweet Afton.
+
+
+Quick, fly to the covert, thou hunted of men!
+For the bloodhounds are baying o'er mountain and glen;
+The riders are mounted, the loose rein is given,
+And curses of wrath are ascending to heaven.
+O, speed to thy footsteps! for ruin and death,
+Like the hurricane's rage, gather thick round thy path;
+And the deep muttered curses grow loud and more loud,
+As horse after horse swells the thundering crowd.
+
+Speed, speed, to thy footsteps! thy track has been found;
+Now, _sport_ for the _rider_, and _blood_ for the _hound!_
+Through brake and through forest the man-prey is driven;
+O, help for the hopeless, thou merciful Heaven!
+On! on to the mountain! they're baffled again,
+And hope for the woe-stricken still may remain;
+The fast-flagging steeds are all white with their foam,
+The bloodhounds have turned from the chase to their home.
+
+Joy! joy to the wronged one! the haven he gains,
+Escaped from his thraldom, and freed from his chains!
+The heaven-stamped image--the God-given soul--
+No more shall the spoiler at pleasure control.
+O, shame to Columbia, that on her bright plains,
+Man pines in his fetters, and curses his chains!
+Shame! shame! that her star-spangled banner should wave
+Where the lash is made red in the blood of the slave.
+
+Sons of old Pilgrim Fathers! and are ye thus dumb?
+Shall tyranny triumph, and freedom succumb?
+While mothers are torn from their children apart,
+And agony sunders the cords of the heart?
+Shall the sons of those sires that once spurned the chain,
+Turn bloodhounds to hunt and make captive again?
+O, shame to your honor, and shame to your pride,
+And shame on your memory ever abide!
+
+Will not your old sires start up from the ground,
+At the crack of the whip, and bay of the hound,
+And shaking their skeleton hands in your face,
+Curse the germs that produced such a miscreant race?
+
+O, rouse ye for freedom, before on your path
+Heaven pours without mixture the vials of wrath!
+Loose every hard burden--break off every chain--
+Restore to the bondman his freedom again.
+
+
+
+FLING OUT THE ANTI-SLAVERY FLAG.
+
+AIR--Auld Lang Syne
+
+
+Fling out the Anti-slavery flag
+  On every swelling breeze;
+And let its folds wave o'er the land,
+  And o'er the raging seas,
+Till all beneath the standard sheet,
+  With new allegiance bow;
+And pledge themselves to onward bear
+  The emblem of their vow.
+
+Fling out the Anti-Slavery flag,
+  And let it onward wave
+Till it shall float o'er every clime,
+  And liberate the slave;
+Till, like a meteor flashing far,
+  It bursts with glorious light,
+And with its Heaven-born rays dispels
+  The gloom of sorrow's night.
+
+Fling out the Anti-Slavery flag,
+  And let it not be furled,
+Till like a planet of the skies,
+  It sweeps around the world.
+And when each poor degraded slave,
+  Is gathered near and far;
+O, fix it on the azure arch,
+  As hope's eternal star.
+
+Fling out the Anti-Slavery flag,
+  Forever let it be
+The emblem to a holy cause,
+  The banner of the free.
+And never from its guardian height,
+  Let it by man be driven,
+But let it float forever there,
+  Beneath the smiles of heaven.
+
+
+
+THE YANKEE GIRL.
+
+
+She sings by her wheel at that low cottage door,
+Which the long evening shadow is stretching before;
+With a music as sweet as the music which seems
+Breathed softly and faintly in the ear of our dreams!
+
+How brilliant and mirthful the light of her eye,
+Like a star glancing out from the blue of the sky!
+And lightly and freely her dark tresses play
+O'er a brow and a bosom as lovely as they!
+
+Who comes in his pride to that low cottage door--
+The haughty and rich to the humble and poor?
+'Tis the great Southern planter--the master who waves
+His whip of dominion o'er hundreds of slaves.
+
+"Nay, Ellen, for shame! Let those Yankee fools spin,
+Who would pass for our slaves with a change of their skin;
+Let them toil as they will at the loom or the wheel
+Too stupid for shame and too vulgar to feel!
+
+"But thou art too lovely and precious a gem
+To be bound to their burdens and sullied by them--
+For shame, Ellen, shame!--cast thy bondage aside,
+And away to the South, as my blessing and pride.
+
+"O, come where no winter thy footsteps can wrong,
+But where flowers are blossoming all the year long,
+Where the shade of the palm-tree is over my home,
+And the lemon and orange are white in their bloom!
+
+"O, come to my home, where my servants shall all
+Depart at thy bidding and come at thy call;
+They shall heed thee as mistress with trembling and awe,
+And each wish of thy heart shall be felt as a law."
+
+O, could ye have seen her--that pride of our girls--
+Arise and cast back the dark wealth of her curls,
+With a scorn in her eye which the gazer could feel,
+And a glance like the sunshine that flashes on steel:
+
+"Go back, haughty Southron! thy treasures of gold
+Are dim with the blood of the hearts thou hast sold!
+Thy home may be lovely, but round it I hear
+The crack of the whip and the footsteps of fear!
+
+"And the sky of thy South may be brighter than ours,
+And greener thy landscapes, and fairer thy flowers;
+But, dearer the blast round our mountains which raves,
+Than the sweet sunny zephyr which breathes over slaves!
+
+"Full low at thy bidding thy negroes may kneel,
+With the iron of bondage on spirit and heel;
+Yet know that the Yankee girl sooner would be
+In _fetters_ with _them_, than in freedom with _thee!_"
+
+
+
+From Tait's Edinburgh Magazine.
+
+JEFFERSON'S DAUGHTER.
+
+"It is asserted, on the authority of an American Newspaper, that the
+daughter of Thomas Jefferson, late President of the United States, was
+sold at New Orleans for $1,000."--Morning Chronicle.
+
+
+Can the blood that, at Lexington, poured o'er the plain,
+  When the sons warred with tyrants their rights to uphold,
+Can the tide of Niagara wipe out the stain?
+  No! Jefferson's child has been bartered for gold!
+
+Do you boast of your freedom? Peace, babblers--be still;
+  Prate not of the goddess who scarce deigns to hear;
+Have ye power to unbind? Are ye wanting in will?
+  Must the groans of your bondman still torture the ear?
+
+The daughter of Jefferson sold for a slave!
+  The child of a freeman for dollars and francs!
+The roar of applause, when your orators rave,
+  Is lost in the sound of her chain, as it clanks.
+
+Peace, then, ye blasphemers of Liberty's name!
+  Though red was the blood by your forefathers spilt,
+Still redder your cheeks should be mantled with shame,
+  Till the spirit of freedom shall cancel the guilt.
+
+But the brand of the slave is the tint of his skin,
+  Though his heart may beat loyal and true underneath;
+While the soul of the tyrant is rotten within,
+  And his white the mere cloak to the blackness of death.
+
+Are ye deaf to the plaints that each moment arise?
+  Is it thus ye forget the mild precepts of Penn,--
+Unheeding the clamor that "maddens the skies,"
+  As ye trample the rights of your dark fellow-men?
+
+When the incense that glows before Liberty's shrine,
+  Is unmixed with the blood of the galled and oppressed,
+O, then, and then only, the boast may be thine,
+  That the stripes and stars wave o'er a land of the blest.
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE-AUCTION--A FACT.
+
+
+Why stands she near the auction stand,
+  That girl so young and fair;
+What brings her to this dismal place,
+  Why stands she weeping there?
+
+Why does she raise that bitter cry?
+  Why hangs her head with shame,
+As now the auctioneer's rough voice,
+  So rudely calls her name?
+
+But see! she grasps a manly hand,
+  And in a voice so low,
+As scarcely to be heard, she says,
+  'My brother, must I go?'
+
+A moment's pause: then midst a wail
+  Of agonizing woe,
+His answer falls upon the ear,
+  'Yes, sister, you must go!'
+
+'No longer can my arm defend,
+  No longer can I save
+My sister from the horrid fate
+  That waits her as a SLAVE!'
+
+Ah! now I know why she is there,
+  She came there to be sold!
+That lovely form, that noble mind,
+  Must be exchanged for gold!
+
+O God! my every heart-string cries,
+  Dost thou these scenes behold
+In this our boasted Christian land,
+  And must the truth be told?
+
+Blush, Christian, blush! for e'en the dark
+  Untutored heathen see
+Thy inconsistency, and lo!
+  They scorn thy God, and thee!
+
+
+
+GET OFF THE TRACK.
+
+Air--Dan Tucker.
+
+
+Ho! the car Emancipation
+Rides majestic thro' our nation,
+Bearing on its train the story,
+Liberty! a nation's glory.
+  Roll it along, thro' the nation,
+  Freedom's car, Emancipation!
+
+First of all the train, and greater,
+Speeds the dauntless Liberator,
+Onward cheered amid hosannas,
+And the waving of free banners.
+  Roll it along! spread your banners,
+  While the people shout hosannas.
+
+Men of various predilections,
+Frightened, run in all directions;
+Merchants, editors, physicians,
+Lawyers, priests, and politicians.
+  Get out of the way! every station!
+  Clear the track of 'mancipation!
+
+Let the ministers and churches
+Leave behind sectarian lurches;
+Jump on board the car of Freedom,
+Ere it be too late to need them.
+  Sound the alarm! Pulpits thunder!
+  Ere too late you see your blunder!
+
+Politicians gazed, astounded,
+When, at first, our bell resounded;
+_Freight trains_ are coming, tell these foxes,
+With our _votes_ and _ballot boxes_.
+  Jump for your lives! politicians,
+  From your dangerous, false positions.
+
+All true friends of Emancipation,
+Haste to Freedom's railroad station;
+Quick into the cars get seated,
+All is ready and completed.
+  Put on the steam! all are crying,
+  And the liberty flags are flying.
+
+Now again the bell is tolling,
+Soon you'll see the car-wheels rolling;
+Hinder not their destination,
+Chartered for Emancipation.
+  Wood up the fire! keep it flashing,
+  While the train goes onward dashing.
+
+Hear the mighty car-wheels humming!
+Now look out! _the Engine's coming!_
+Church and statesmen! hear the thunder!
+Clear the track or you'll fall under.
+  Get off the track! all are singing,
+  While the _Liberty bell_ is ringing.
+
+On, triumphant see them bearing,
+Through sectarian rubbish tearing;
+The bell and whistle and the steaming,
+Startle thousands from their dreaming.
+  Look out for the cars while the bell rings!
+  Ere the sound your funeral knell rings.
+
+See the people run to meet us;
+At the depots thousands greet us;
+All take seats with exultation,
+In the Car Emancipation.
+  Huzza! Huzza!! Emancipation
+  Soon will bless our happy nation,
+    Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!!!
+
+
+
+BE FREE, O MAN, BE FREE.
+
+
+The storm-winds wildly blowing,
+  The bursting billows mock,
+As with their foam-crests glowing,
+  They dash the sea-girt rock;
+Amid the wild commotion,
+  The revel of the sea,
+A voice is on the ocean,
+  Be free, O man, be free.
+
+Behold the sea-brine leaping
+  High in the murky air;
+List to the tempest sweeping
+  In chainless fury there.
+What moves the mighty torrent,
+  And bids it flow abroad?
+Or turns the rapid current?
+  What, but the voice of God?
+
+Then, answer, is the spirit
+  Less noble or less free?
+From whom does it inherit
+  The doom of slavery?
+When man can bind the waters,
+  That they no longer roll,
+Then let him forge the fetters
+  To clog the human soul.
+
+Till then a voice is stealing
+  From earth and sea and sky,
+And to the soul revealing
+  Its immortality.
+The swift wind chants the numbers
+  Careering o'er the sea,
+And earth, aroused from slumbers,
+  Re-echoes, "Man, be free."
+
+
+
+THE FUGITIVE SLAVE TO THE CHRISTIAN.
+
+
+The fetters galled my weary soul--
+A soul that seemed but thrown away;
+I spurned the tyrant's base control,
+Resolved at last the man to play:--
+  The hounds are baying on my track;
+  O Christian! will you send me back?
+
+I felt the stripes, the lash I saw,
+Red, dripping with a father's gore;
+And worst of all their lawless law,
+The insults that my mother bore!
+  The hounds are baying on my track,
+  O Christian! will you send me back?
+
+Where human law o'errules Divine,
+Beneath the sheriff's hammer fell
+My wife and babes,--I call them mine,--
+And where they suffer, who can tell?
+  The hounds are baying on my track,
+  O Christian! will you send me back?
+
+I seek a home where man is man,
+If such there be upon this earth,
+To draw my kindred, if I can,
+Around its free, though humble hearth.
+  The hounds are baying on my track,
+  O Christian! will you send me back?
+
+
+
+RESCUE THE SLAVE!
+
+AIR--The Troubadour.
+
+This song was composed while George Latimer, the fugitive slave, was
+confined in Leverett Street Jail, Boston, expecting to be carried back
+to Virginia by James B. Gray, his claimant.
+
+
+Sadly the fugitive weeps in his cell,
+  Listen awhile to the story we tell;
+Listen ye gentle ones, listen ye brave,
+  Lady fair! Lady fair! weep for the slave.
+
+Praying for liberty, dearer than life,
+  Torn from his little one, torn from his wife,
+Flying from slavery, hear him and save,
+  Christian men! Christian men! help the poor slave.
+
+Think of his agony, feel for his pain,
+  Should his hard master e'er hold him again;
+Spirit of liberty, rise from your grave,
+  Make him free, make him free, rescue the slave.
+
+Freely the slave master goes where he will;
+  Freemen, stand ready, his wishes to fulfil,
+Helping the tyrant, or honest or knave,
+  Thinking not, caring not, for the poor slave.
+
+Talk not of liberty, liberty is dead;
+  See the slave master's whip over our head;
+Stooping beneath it, we ask what he craves,
+  Boston boys! Boston boys! catch me my slaves.
+
+Freemen, arouse ye, before it's too late;
+  Slavery is knocking, at every gate,
+Make good the promise, your early days gave,
+  Boston boys! Boston boys! rescue the slave.
+
+
+
+THE SLAVE-HOLDER'S ADDRESS TO THE NORTH STAR.
+
+
+Star of the North! Thou art not bigger
+  Than is the diamond in my ring;
+Yet, every black, star-gazing nigger
+  Looks at thee, as at some great thing!
+Yes, gazes at thee, till the lazy
+  And thankless rascal is half crazy.
+
+Some Abolitionist has told them,
+  That, if they take their flight toward thee,
+They'll get where "massa" cannot hold them,
+  And therefore to the North they flee.
+Fools to be led off, where they can't earn
+  Their living, by thy lying lantern.
+
+We will to New England write,
+  And tell them not to let thee shine
+(Excepting of a cloudy night)
+  Anywhere south of Dixon's line;
+If beyond that thou shine an inch,
+  We'll have thee up before Judge Lynch.
+
+And when, thou Abolition star,
+  Who preachest Freedom in all weathers,
+Thou hast got on thy coat of tar,
+  And over that, a cloak of feathers,
+Thou art "fixed" none will deny,
+  If there's a fixed star in the sky.
+
+
+
+SONG OF THE COFFLE GANG.
+
+This song is said to be sung by Slaves, as they are chained in gangs,
+when parting from friends for the far off South--children taken from
+parents, husbands from wives, and brothers from sisters.
+
+
+  See these poor souls from Africa,
+  Transported to America:
+We are stolen, and sold to Georgia, will you go along with me?
+We are stolen and sold to Georgia, go sound the jubilee.
+
+  See wives and husbands sold apart,
+  The children's screams!--it breaks my heart;
+There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
+There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.
+
+  O, gracious Lord? when shall it be,
+  That we poor souls shall all be free?
+Lord, break them Slavery powers--will you go along with me?
+Lord, break them Slavery powers, go sound the jubilee.
+
+  Dear Lord! dear Lord! when Slavery'll cease,
+  Then we poor souls can have our peace;
+There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
+There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.
+
+
+
+ZAZA--THE FEMALE SLAVE.
+
+
+O, my country, my country!
+  How long I for thee,
+Far over the mountain,
+  Far over the sea.
+Where the sweet Joliba,
+  Kisses the shore,
+Say, shall I wander
+  By thee never more?
+Where the sweet Joliba kisses the shore,
+Say, shall I wander by thee never more.
+
+Say, O fond Zurima,
+  Where dost thou stay?
+Say, doth another
+  List to thy sweet lay?
+Say, doth the orange still
+  Bloom near our cot?
+Zurima, Zurima,
+  Am I forgot?
+O, my country, my country, how long I for thee,
+Far over the mountain, far over the sea.
+
+Under the baobab
+  Oft have I slept,
+Fanned by sweet breezes
+  That over me swept.
+Often in dreams
+  Do my weary limbs lay
+'Neath the same baobab,
+  Far, far away.
+O, my country, my country, how long I for thee,
+Far over the mountain, far over the sea.
+
+O, for the breath
+  Of our own waving palm,
+Here, as I languish,
+  My spirit to calm--
+O, for a draught
+  From our own cooling lake,
+Brought by sweet mother,
+  My spirit to wake.
+O, my country, my country, how long I for thee,
+Far over the mountain, far over the sea.
+
+
+
+YE HERALDS OF FREEDOM.
+
+
+Ye heralds of freedom, ye noble and brave,
+Who dare to insist on the rights of the slave,
+Go onward, go onward, your cause is of God,
+And he will soon sever the oppressor's strong rod.
+
+The finger of slander may now at you point,
+That finger will soon lose the strength of its joint;
+And those who now plead for the rights of the slave,
+Will soon be acknowledged the good and the brave.
+
+Though thrones and dominions, and kingdoms and powers,
+May now all oppose you, the victory is yours;
+The banner of Jesus will soon be unfurled,
+And he will give freedom and peace to the world.
+
+Go under his standard and fight by his side,
+O'er mountains and billows you'll then safely ride;
+His gracious protection will be to you given,
+And bright crowns of glory he'll give you in heaven.
+
+
+
+WE'RE COMING! WE'RE COMING.
+
+AIR--Kinloch of Kinloch.
+
+
+We're coming, we're coming, the fearless and free,
+Like the winds of the desert, the waves of the sea!
+True sons of brave sires who battled of yore,
+When England's proud lion ran wild on our shore!
+We're coming, we're coming, from mountain and glen,
+With hearts to do battle for freedom again;
+Oppression is trembling as trembled before
+The slavery which fled from our fathers of yore.
+
+We're coming, we're coming, with banners unfurled,
+Our motto is FREEDOM, our country the world;
+Our watchword is LIBERTY--tyrants beware!
+For the liberty army will bring you despair!
+We're coming, we're coming, we'll come from afar,
+Our standard we'll nail to humanity's car;
+With shoutings we'll raise it, in triumph to wave,
+A trophy of conquest, or shroud for the brave.
+
+Then arouse ye, brave hearts, to the rescue come on!
+The man-stealing army we'll surely put down;
+They are crushing their millions, but soon they must yield,
+For _freemen_ have _risen_ and taken the field.
+Then arouse ye! arouse ye! the fearless and free,
+Like the winds of the desert, the waves of the sea;
+Let the north, west, and east, to the sea-beaten shore,
+_Resound_ with a _liberty triumph_ once more.
+
+
+
+ON TO VICTORY.
+
+AIR--Scots wha hae.
+
+
+Children of the glorious dead,
+Who for freedom fought and bled,
+With her banner o'er you spread,
+  On to victory.
+Not for stern ambition's prize,
+Do our hopes and wishes rise;
+Lo, our leader from the skies,
+  Bids us do or die.
+
+Ours is not the tented field--
+We no earthly weapons wield--
+Light and love, our sword and shield,
+  Truth our panoply.
+This is proud oppression's hour;
+Storms are round us; shall we cower?
+While beneath a despot's power
+  Groans the suffering slave?
+
+While on every southern gale,
+Comes the helpless captive's tale,
+And the voice of woman's wail,
+  And of man's despair?
+While our homes and rights are dear,
+Guarded still with watchful fear,
+Shall we coldly turn our ear
+  From the suppliant's prayer?
+
+Never! by our Country's shame--
+Never! by a Saviour's claim,
+To the men of every name,
+  Whom he died to save.
+Onward, then, ye fearless band--
+Heart to heart, and hand to hand;
+Yours shall be the patriot's stand,
+  Or the martyr's grave.
+
+
+
+THE MAN FOR ME.
+
+AIR--The Rose that all are praising.
+
+
+O, he is not the man for me,
+  Who buys or sells a slave,
+Nor he who will not set him free,
+  But sends him to his grave;
+But he whose noble heart beats warm
+  For all men's life and liberty;
+Who loves alike each human form,
+  O, that's the man for me.
+
+He's not at all the man for me,
+  Who sells a man for gain,
+Who bends the pliant servile knee,
+  To Slavery's god of shame!
+But he whose God-like form erect
+  Proclaims that all alike are free
+To think, and speak, and vote, and act,
+  O, that's the man for me.
+
+He sure is not the man for me
+  Whose spirit will succumb,
+When men endowed with Liberty
+  Lie bleeding, bound and dumb;
+But he whose faithful words of might
+  Ring through the land from shore to sea,
+For man's eternal equal right,
+  O, that's the man for me.
+
+No, no, he's not the man for me
+  Whose voice o'er hill and plain,
+Breaks forth for glorious liberty,
+  But binds himself, the chain!
+The mightiest of the noble band
+  Who prays and toils the world to free,
+With head, and heart, and voice, and vote,
+  O, that's the man for me.
+
+
+
+THE BONDMAN.
+
+AIR--Troubadour.
+
+
+Feebly the bondman toiled,
+  Sadly he wept--
+Then to his wretched cot
+  Mournfully crept;
+How doth his free-born soul
+  Pine 'neath his chain!
+Slavery! Slavery!
+  Dark is thy reign.
+
+Long ere the break of day,
+  Roused from repose,
+Wearily toiling
+  Till after its close--
+Praying for freedom,
+  He spends his last breath:
+Liberty! Liberty!
+  Give me or death.
+
+When, when, O Lord! will right
+  Triumph o'er wrong?
+Tyrants oppress the weak,
+  O Lord! how long?
+Hark! hark! a peal resounds
+  From shore to shore--
+Tyranny! Tyranny!
+  Thy reign is o'er.
+
+E'en now the morning
+  Gleams from the East--
+Despots are feeling
+  Their triumph is past--
+Strong hearts are answering
+  To freedom's loud call--
+Liberty! Liberty!
+  Full and for all.
+
+
+
+RIGHT ON.
+
+AIR--Lenox.
+
+
+Ho! children of the brave,
+  Ho! freemen of the land,
+That hurl'd into the grave
+  Oppression's bloody band;
+Come on, come on, and joined be we
+To make the fettered bondman free.
+
+Let coward vassals sneak
+  From freedom's battle still,
+Poltroons that dare not speak
+  But as their priests may will;
+Come on, come on, and joined be we
+To make the fettered bondman free.
+
+On parchment, scroll and creed,
+  With human life blood red,
+Untrembling at the deed,
+  Plant firm your manly tread;
+The priest may howl, the jurist rave,
+But we will free the fettered slave.
+
+The tyrant's scorn is vain,
+  In vain the slanderer's breath,
+We'll rush to break the chain,
+  E'en on the jaws of death;
+Hurrah! Hurrah! right on go we,
+The fettered slave shall yet be free.
+
+Right on, in freedom's name,
+  And in the strength of God,
+Wipe out the damning stain,
+  And break the oppressor's rod;
+Hurrah! Hurrah! right on go we,
+The fettered slave shall yet be free.
+
+
+
+FUGITIVE'S TRIUMPH.
+
+
+Go, go, thou that enslav'st me,
+  Now, now thy power is o'er;
+Long, long have I obeyed thee,
+  I'm not a slave any more;
+    No, no--oh, no!
+I'm a _free man_ ever more!
+
+Thou, thou brought'st me ever,
+  Deep, deep sorrow and pain;
+But I have left thee forever,
+  Nor will I serve thee again;
+    No, no--oh, no!
+No, I'll not serve thee again.
+
+Tyrant! thou hast bereft me
+  Home, friends, pleasures so sweet;
+Now, forever I've left thee,
+  Thou and I never shall meet;
+    No, no--oh, no!
+Thou and I never shall meet.
+
+Joys, joys, bright as the morning,
+  Now, now, on me will pour,
+Hope, hope, on me is dawning,
+  _I'm not a slave any more!_
+    No, no--oh, no,
+I'm a FREE MAN evermore!
+
+
+
+A SONG FOR FREEDOM.
+
+AIR--Dandy Jim.
+
+
+Come all ye bondmen far and near,
+Let's put a song in massa's ear,
+It is a song for our poor race,
+Who're whipped and trampled with disgrace.
+
+Chorus.
+My old massa tells me O
+This is a land of freedom O;
+Let's look about and see if't is so,
+Just as massa tells me O.
+
+He tells us of that glorious one,
+I think his name was Washington,
+How he did fight for liberty,
+To save a threepence tax on tea.
+
+Chorus.
+My old massa, &c.
+
+And then he tells us that there was
+A Constitution, with this clause,
+That all men equal were created,
+How often have we heard it stated.
+
+Chorus.
+My old massa, &c.
+
+But now we look about and see,
+That we poor blacks are not so free;
+We 're whipped and thrashed about like fools,
+And have no chance at common schools.
+
+Chorus.
+Still, my old massa, &c.
+
+They take our wives, insult and mock,
+And sell our children on the block,
+Then choke us if we say a word,
+And say that "niggers" shan't be heard.
+
+Chorus.
+Still, my old massa, &c.
+
+Our preachers, too, with whip and cord,
+Command obedience in the Lord;
+They say they learn it from the book,
+But for ourselves we dare not look.
+
+Chorus.
+Still, my old massa tells me O,
+This is a _Christian_ country O, &c.
+
+There is a country far away,
+Friend Hopper says 't is Canada,
+And if we reach Victoria's shore,
+He says that we are slaves no more.
+
+Chorus.
+Now hasten all bondmen, let us go
+And leave this Christian country O;
+Haste to the land of the British Queen,
+Where whips for negroes are not seen.
+
+Now if we go, we must take the night--
+We're sure to die if we come in sight--
+The blood-hounds will be on our track,
+And wo to us if they fetch us back.
+
+Chorus.
+Now haste all bondmen, let us go,
+And leave this _Christian_ country O;
+God help us to Victoria's shore,
+Where we are free and slaves no more.
+
+
+
+FREEDOM'S BANNER.
+
+AIR--Freedom's Banner.
+
+
+My country, shall thy honored name,
+  Be as a by-word through the world?
+Rouse! for as if to blast thy fame,
+  This keen reproach is at thee hurled;
+The banner that above thee waves,
+  Is floating over three millions slaves.
+
+That flag, my country, I had thought,
+  From noble sires was given to thee,
+By the best blood of patriots bought,
+  To wave alone above the Free!
+Yet now, while to the breeze it waves,
+  It floats above three millions slaves,
+
+The mighty dead that flag unrolled,
+  They bathed it in the heaven's own blue;
+They sprinkled stars upon each fold,
+  And gave it as a trust to you;
+And now that glorious banner waves
+  In shame above three millions slaves.
+
+O, by the virtues of our sires,
+  And by the soil on which they trod,
+And by the trust their name inspires,
+  And by the hope we have in God,
+Arouse, my country, and agree
+  To set thy captive children free.
+
+Arouse! and let each hill and glen
+  With prayer to the high heavens ring out,
+Till all our land with freeborn men,
+  May join in one triumphant shout,
+That freedom's banner does not wave
+  Its folds above a single slave.
+
+
+
+YOUR BROTHER IS A SLAVE.
+
+
+O weep, ye friends of Freedom, weep!
+  Shout liberty no more;
+Your harps to mournful measures sweep,
+  Till slavery's reign is o'er.
+O, furl your star-lit thing of light--
+  That banner should not wave
+Where, vainly pleading for his right,
+  Your Brother toils--_a Slave!_
+
+O pray, ye friends of Freedom, pray
+  For those who toil in chains,
+Who lift their fettered hands to day
+  On Carolina's plain!
+God is the hope of the Oppressed;
+  His arm is strong to save;
+Pray, then, that freedom's cause be blest,
+  Your Brother is _a Slave!_
+
+O toil, ye friends of Freedom, toil!
+  Your mission to fulfil,--
+That Freedom's consecrated soil
+  Slaves may no longer till;
+Ay, toil and pray from deep disgrace
+  Your native land to save;
+Weep o'er the miseries of your race,
+  _Your Brother is a Slave!_
+
+
+
+COME JOIN THE ABOLITIONISTS.
+
+AIR--When I can read my title clear.
+
+
+  Come join the Abolitionists,
+    Ye young men bold and strong.
+  And with a warm and cheerful zeal,
+    Come help the cause along;
+O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
+O that will be joyful, when Slavery is no more,
+When Slavery is no more.
+  'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
+  When Slavery is no more.
+
+  Come join the Abolitionists,
+    Ye men of riper years,
+  And save your wives and children dear,
+    From grief and bitter tears;
+O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
+O that will be joyful, when Slavery is no more,
+When Slavery is no more,
+  'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
+  When Slavery is no more.
+
+  Come join the Abolitionists,
+    Ye dames and maidens fair,
+  And breathe around us in our path
+    Affection's hallowed air;
+O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
+O that will be joyful, when woman cheers us on,
+When woman cheers us on, to conquests not yet won.
+  'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
+  When woman cheers us on.
+
+  Come join the Abolitionists,
+    Ye sons and daughters all
+  Of this our own America--
+    Come at the friendly call;
+O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
+O that will be joyful, when all shall proudly say,
+This, this is Freedom's day--Oppression flee away!
+  'T is then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
+  When freedom wins the day.
+
+
+
+THERE'S A GOOD TIME COMING.
+
+
+There's a good time coming boys,
+  A good time coming;
+There's a good time coming boys,
+  Wait a little longer.
+We may not live to see the day,
+But earth shall glisten in the ray
+  Of the good time coming;
+Cannon balls may aid the truth,
+  But thought's a weapon stronger;
+We'll win our battle by its aid,
+  Wait a little longer.
+  O, there's a good time, &c.
+
+There's a good time coming boys,
+  A good time coming;
+The pen shall supersede the sword,
+And right, not might shall be the lord,
+  In the good time coming.
+Worth, not birth shall rule mankind,
+  And be acknowledged stronger,
+The proper impulse has been given,
+  Wait a little longer.
+  O, there's a good time, &c.
+
+There's a good time coming boys,
+  A good time coming;
+Hateful rivalries of creed,
+Shall not make their martyrs bleed,
+  In the good time coming.
+Religion shall be shorn of pride,
+  And flourish all the stronger;
+And Charity shall trim her lamp,
+  Wait a little longer.
+  O, there's a good time, &c.
+
+There's a good time coming boys,
+  A good time coming;
+War in all men's eyes shall be,
+A monster of iniquity,
+  In the good time coming.
+Nations shall not quarrel then,
+  To prove which is the stronger;
+Nor slaughter men for glory's sake,
+  Wait a little longer.
+  O, there's a good time, &c.
+
+
+
+THE BIGOT FIRE.
+
+Written on the occasion of George Latimer's Imprisonment in Levorott street
+Jail, Boston.
+
+
+O, kindle not that bigot fire,
+  'T will bring disunion, fear and pain;
+'T will rouse at last the souther's ire,
+  And burst our starry land in twain.
+
+Theirs is the high, the noble worth,
+  The very soul of chivalry;
+Rend not our blood-bought land apart,
+  For such a thing as slavery.
+
+This is the language of the North,
+  I shame to say it but't is true;
+And anti-slavery calls it forth,
+  From some proud priests and laymen too.
+
+What! bend forsooth to southern rule?
+  What! cringe and crawl to souther's clay,
+And be the base, the supple tool,
+  Of hell-begotten slavery?
+
+No! never, while the free air plays
+  O'er our rough hills and sunny fountains,
+Shall proud New England's sons be _free_,
+  And clank their fetters round her mountains.
+
+Go if ye will and grind in dust,
+  Dark Afric's poor, degraded child;
+Wring from his sinews gold accursed,
+  And boast your gospel warm and mild.
+
+While on our mountain tops the pine
+  In freedom her green branches wave,
+Her sons shall never stoop to bind
+  The galling shackle of the slave.
+
+Ye dare demand with haughty tone,
+  For us to pander to your shame,
+To give our brother up alone,
+  To feel the lash and wear the chain.
+
+Our brother never shall go back,
+  When once he presses our free shore;
+Though souther's power with hell to back,
+  Comes thundering at our northern door.
+
+No! rather be our starry land,
+  Into a thousand fragments riven;
+Upon our own free hills we'll stand,
+  And pour upon the breeze of heaven,
+A curse so loud, so stern, so deep,
+  Shall start ye in your guilty sleep.
+
+
+
+OFT IN THE CHILLY NIGHT.
+
+
+Oft in the chilly night,
+  Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
+When all her silvery light
+  The moon is pouring round me,
+Beneath its ray I kneel and pray
+  That God would give some token
+That slavery's chains on Southern plains,
+  Shall all ere long be broken;
+Yes, in the chilly night,
+  Though slavery's chain has bound me,
+Kneel I, and feel the might
+  Of God's right arm around me.
+
+When at the driver's call,
+  In cold or sultry weather,
+We slaves, both great and small,
+  Turn out to toil together,
+I feel like one from whom the sun
+  Of hope has long departed;
+And morning's light, and weary night,
+  Still find me broken hearted;
+Thus, when the chilly breath
+  Of night is sighing round me,
+Kneel I, and wish that death
+  In his cold chain had bound me.
+
+
+
+ARE YE TRULY FREE?
+
+AIR--Martyn.
+
+
+Men! whose boast it is that ye
+Come of fathers brave and free;
+If there breathe on earth a slave,
+Are ye truly free and brave?
+Are ye not base slaves indeed,
+Men unworthy to be freed,
+If ye do not feel the chain,
+When it works a brother's pain?
+
+Women! who shall one day bear
+Sons to breathe God's bounteous air,
+If ye hear without a blush,
+Deeds to make the roused blood rush
+Like red lava through your veins,
+For your sisters now in chains;
+Answer! are ye fit to be
+Mothers of the brave and free?
+
+Is true freedom but to break
+Fetters for our own dear sake,
+And, with leathern hearts forget
+That we owe mankind a debt?
+No! true freedom is to share
+All the chains our brothers wear,
+And with hand and heart to be
+Earnest to make others free.
+
+They are slaves who fear to speak
+For the fallen and the weak;
+They are slaves, who will not choose
+Hatred, scoffing, and abuse,
+Rather than, in silence, shrink
+From the truth they needs must think;
+They are slaves, who dare not be
+In the right with _two_ or _three_.
+
+
+
+EMANCIPATION SONG.
+
+AIR--Crambambule.
+
+
+Let waiting throngs now lift their voices,
+  As Freedom's glorious day draws near,
+While every gentle tongue rejoices,
+  And each bold heart is filled with cheer;
+The slave has seen the Northern star,
+He'll soon be free, hurrah, hurrah!
+
+Though many still are writhing under
+  The cruel whips of "chevaliers,"
+Who mothers from their children sunder,
+  And scourge them for their helpless tears--
+Their safe deliverance is not far!
+The day draws nigh!--hurrah, hurrah!
+
+Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest
+  Surrounds the earth as with a pall;
+Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest,
+  That on thy sight the rays may fall!
+No doubt let now thy bosom mar;
+Send up the shout--hurrah, hurrah!
+
+Shall we distrust the God of Heaven?--
+  He every doubt and fear will quell;
+By him the captive's chains are riven--
+  So let us loud the chorus swell!
+Man shall be free from cruel law,--
+Man shall be MAN!--hurrah, hurrah!
+
+No more again shall it be granted
+  To southern overseers to rule--
+No more will pilgrims' sons be taunted
+  With cringing low in slavery's school.
+So clear the way for Freedom's car--
+The free shall rule!--hurrah, hurrah!
+
+Send up the shout Emancipation--
+  From heaven let the echoes bound--
+Soon will it bless this franchised nation,
+  Come raise again the stirring sound!
+Emancipation near and far--
+Swell up the shout--hurrah! hurrah!
+
+
+
+WHAT MEAN YE?
+
+AIR--Ortonville.
+
+
+What mean ye that ye bruise and bind
+  My people, saith the Lord,
+And starve your craving brother's mind,
+  Who asks to hear my word?
+
+What mean ye that ye make them toil,
+  Through long and dreary years,
+And shed like rain upon your soil
+  Their blood and bitter tears?
+
+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.
+
+
+The night is dark, and keen the air,
+And the Slave is flying to be free;
+His parting word is one short prayer;
+O God, but give me Liberty!
+  Farewell--farewell;
+Behind I leave the whips and chains,
+Before me spreads sweet Freedom's plains.
+
+One star shines in the heavens above,
+That guides him on his lonely way;--
+Star of the North--how deep his love
+For thee, thou star of Liberty!
+  Farewell--farewell;
+Behind he leaves the whips and chains,
+Before him spreads sweet Freedom's plains.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX.
+
+Am I not a Man and Brother?                  A.C.L.
+O, Pity the Slave Mother.      Words from Liberator
+The Blind Slave Boy.                    Mrs. Bailey
+Ye Sons of Freemen.                Mrs. J.G. Carter
+Freedom's Star.                              Harris
+Liberty Ball.                                Clarke
+Emancipation Hymn.
+Over the Mountain.                J. Hutchinson Jr.
+Jubilee Song.
+Spirit of Freemen, Wake.
+Slave's Lamentation.                  Parody Tucker
+Flight of the Bondman.                        Smith
+Sweets of Liberty.
+Ye Spirits of the Free.
+Colonization Song.                    A Slaveholder
+I am an Abolitionist.                      Garrison
+The Bereaved Mother.                  J. Hutchinson
+The Chase.                     Douglass' North Star
+Fling out the Anti Slavery Flag.
+The Yankee Girl.                           Whittier
+Jefferson's Daughter.
+The Auction.
+Get off the Track.                J. Hutchinson Jr.
+Be Free, O Man, be Free.               M.H. Maxwell
+Fugitive Slave to the Christian.      E. Wright Jr.
+Rescue the Slave.                   Latimer Journal
+Slave-holder to the North Star.            Pierpont
+The Coffle Gang.                            A Slave
+Zaza, the Female Slave.                   Miss Ball
+We're Coming.
+On to Victory.
+The Man for me.                       Parody Tucker
+The Bondman.                   Words from Liberator
+Right On.                               A Christian
+Fugitive's Triumph.
+Freedom's Banner.                      R.C. Wateson
+Good Time Coming.                 J. Hutchinson Jr.
+A Song for Freedom.
+Your Brother is a Slave.                D.H. Jaques
+Come Join the Abolitionists.
+The Bigot Fire.                       John Ramsdale
+Oft in the Chilly Night.                   Pierpont
+Are ye Truly Free?                      J.R. Lowell
+Emancipation Song.                   Bangor Gazette
+What mean ye?
+Light of Truth.                      Oliver Johnson
+Flying Slave.                        Bangor Gazette
+Ye Heralds of Freedom.
+
+
+
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