N OT unto us who did but seek The word that burned within to speak, Not unto us this day belong The triumph and exultant song. Upon us fell in early youth The burden of unwelcome truth, Thenceforth our life a fight became, The air we breathed was hot with blame; We bore, as Freedom's hope forlorn, We prayed and hoped; but still, with awe, In grief which they alone can feel Who from a mother's wrong appeal, ༡༡༡། With blended lines of fear and hope For still within her house of life Deep as our love for her, became We hoped for peace our eyes survey Not skill nor strength nor zeal of ours A redder sea than Egypt's wave The praise, O Lord! be Thine alone, 3d Mo., 1865. |