That wrong is also done to us; and they are slaves most base, Whose love of right is for themselves, and not for all their race. God works for all. Ye cannot hem the hope of being free With parallels of latitude, with mountain-range or sea. Put golden padlocks on Truth's lips, be callous as ye will, From soul to soul, o'er all the world, leaps one electric thrill. Chain down your slaves with ignorance, ye cannot keep apart, With all your craft of tyranny, the human heart from heart: When first the Pilgrims landed on the Bay State's iron shore, The word went forth that slavery should one day be no more. Out from the land of bondage 't is decreed our slaves shall go, And signs to us are offered, as erst to Pharaoh ; If we are blind, their exodus, like Israel's of yore, Through a Red Sea is doomed to be, whose surges are of gore. 'T is ours to save our brethren, with peace and love to win Their darkened hearts from error, ere they harden it to sin; But if man before his duty with a listless spirit stands, Ere long the Great Avenger takes the work from out his hands. ON THE DEATH OF CHARLES T. TORREY. WOE worth the hour when it is crime To plead the poor dumb bondman's cause, The glorious throbs that conquer time, He strove among God's suffering poor To give the truth one martyr more, Then shut, and here behold the end! O Mother State! when this was done, No pitying throe thy bosom gave; Silent thou saw'st the death-shroud spun, And now thou givest to thy son The stranger's charity, a grave. Must it be thus for ever? No! The hand of God sows not in vain ; Long sleeps the darkling seed below, The seasons come, and change, and go, And all the fields are deep with grain. Although our brother lie asleep, Man's heart still struggles, still aspires; His grave shall quiver yet, while deep Through the brave Bay State's pulses leap Her ancient energies and fires. When hours like this the senses' gush It hears amid the eternal hush The swooping pinions' dreadful rush, That bring the vengeance and the doom; |