Aid her in this her hour,-
Stretch forth Thine arm of power,
Bid Anarchy depart !
From workshop, office, homes,
E'en from God's temple comes
The earnest, thrilling cry;
Fight for your future peace,-
Bid not the war-notes cease
Till ours the victory!
Let the bold rallying cry
North, East and Westward fly,
Our Country shall be free!
Firm as her rock-bound shore,
Make her forevermore
A land of Liberty.
Pure as her snow-clad hills,
Be ev'ry thought that fills
Her soldiers' manly hearts!
For God and Native Land,
True as the steel to stand
Till the last breath departs.
Our Country! how the prayer
Fills the chill wintry air;
But God's heart is not cold;
Souls in the path of Right,
Cloud, Fire, by day, by night,
His presence will infold.
From where Old Ocean gathers in might,
His reign undisputed for years,
Rouse ye, my Brothers, and gird for the fight,
Arm with the sword and the buckler of right!
Stand forth, ye brave Volunteers!
From homes that nestle among the hills,
Where the cornfield rattles its spears,
Rise, with the hands' honest labor made strong!
Come, with the hearts that have suffered so long!
Stand forth, ye brave Volunteers!
Forth from the woods, your axes laid low
(For dark the horizon appears) !
Sharpen your weapons to drive back the foe!
Point out the coward, who dares to say no!
Stand forth, ye brave Volunteers.
Come from our mountains, whose summits have shown
Freedom's light breaking forth o'er a world!
Let vassals of darkness be charged-overthrown-
To the dust their false ensign be hurled!
For the present-bear up! for the Future-no fears!
Stand forth, all ye brave Volunteers!
Come from the office, the pulpit, the plough!
Have faith in the helmsman who steers!
The crisis is reached, it is found in the Now;
Strike boldly for Freedom (or evermore bow) !
Stand forth, all ye brave Volunteers.
"YOU WILL HEAR IT THUNDER ALL AROUND."
Let it thunder all around,
Till it clear the tainted air!
Till our soil be Freedom's ground
And no chains our brothers wear.
Let it thunder all around,
Till deaf South the tidings hear!
Thy Brother's blood cries from the ground!
Before the Judgment seat appear!
Let it thunder all around,
Rise, and let th' oppressed go free!
Not till we, too, hear the sound,
Will God give the victory.
Let it thunder all around,
Till upon our fruitful soil
Not one trembling slave be found
Bending o'er his unpaid toil!
Let it thunder all around,
Till old England feels once more,
Hands as strong and hearts abound,
As once made her Lion roar !
Let it thunder all around!
Till all foreign nations own.
That our Eagle fierce, unbound,
Had be better let alone!
Let it thunder all around,
Till it clear the tainted air!
Till our soil be Freedom's ground
And no chains our brothers wear.
THE UNKNOWN SHORE.
How toss our barks upon Life's troubled ocean! How, when the tempest's noise and strife are o'er, Sailing along with slow and slower motion,
We stop to anchor on the unknown shore !
Through different streams by devious ways all drifting,
Leave the Birth Country which they see no more-
But feel that Angel wings each day are lifting,
Swelling their sails to near that unknown shore.
Upon the waves bright waifs are often floating,
Fair fruits and flowers no earthly clime e'er bore,
And from old voyagers' books and records noting,
We say they reach us from that unknown shore.
Oft thoughts of Peace like white-winged birds come
Forth from no earthly land they rising soar;
Singing of cloudless days and love undying,
Of sweet reunions on that unknown shore.
What wonder then the Soul oft feels a longing,
As though a restless guest its bosom bore,
And round it shadowy forms seem often thronging,
Pleading and calling to that unknown shore !
In the soft fragrance of an eastern evening,
When scented breezes wandered to and fro,
And stars like living gems thick set in heaven
Shed o'er the narrow streets a silv'ry glow;
When music mingled with the plashing fountain,
Which seemed to time its droppings to its round,
While Age rejoiced in smiles of happy childhood,
And dark eyes told of love to eyes around-
Lo! Ali sat beneath his tattered awning
Pouring forth lamentations on the air;
Beating his breast or falling earthward prostrate,
Rending his robes and plucking out his hair;
"Oh! why am I so poor and wretched?" crying,
"When joy and mirth float on the balmy gale?
Why mourn I now the loss of my last drachma
And to my loved ones dread to tell the tale?"
When lo! a voice said, "raise thyself, O Ali!
And look within the mirror that I hold."
There Ali saw dead Pilgrims in a desert,
Around them heavy bags of shining gold.
Then the voice said, "One gift there is, O Ali,
To thee remaining, to thy babes, thy wife,
Without which gold in earth had useless slumbered! What is it?" Ali answered, "It is Life!"
"Gaze thou again !" and Ali saw a city
Where gorgeous homes contained plague-stricken men, Where women, children, writhed on downy pillows.
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