With blended lines of fear and hope
We cast our country's horoscope.

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

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

We hoped for peace our eyes survey
The blood-red dawn of Freedom's day;
We prayed for love to loose the chain;
'Tis shorn by battle's axe in twain !

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

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

The praise, O Lord! be Thine alone,
In Thy own way Thy work be done!
Our poor gifts at Thy feet we cast,
To whom be glory, first and last!

3d Mo., 1865.

STANZAS.

UR fellow-countrymen in chains! Slaves in a land of light and law! Slaves-crouching on the very plains

Where rolled the storm of Freedom's war!

With blended lines of fear and hope
We cast our country's horoscope.

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

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

We hoped for peace our eyes survey
The blood-red dawn of Freedom's day;
We prayed for love to loose the chain ;
'Tis shorn by battle's axe in twain !

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

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

The praise, O Lord! be Thine alone,
In Thy own way Thy work be done!
Our poor gifts at Thy feet we cast,
To whom be glory, first and last!

3d Mo., 1865.

STANZAS.

UR fellow-countrymen in chains! Slaves in a land of light and law! Slaves-crouching on the very plains

With blended lines of fear and hope
We cast our country's horoscope.

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

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

We hoped for peace: our eyes survey
The blood-red dawn of Freedom's day;
We prayed for love to loose the chain;
'Tis shorn by battle's axe in twain !

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

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

The praise, O Lord! be Thine alone,
In Thy own way Thy work be done!
Our poor gifts at Thy feet we cast,
To whom be glory, first and last!

3d Mo., 1865.