The Liberty Minstrel | Page 9

is yet a cloudless day.
Far distant is my childhood's home--?No mother's smiles--no father's care!?Oh! how I'd love again to roam,?Where once my little playmates were!
Sleep on, thou hast not felt the chain;?But though 'tis yet unmingled joy,?I may not see those smiles again,?Nor clasp thee to my breast, my boy.
And must I see thee toil and bleed!?Thy manly soul in fetters tied;?'Twill wring thy mother's heart indeed--?Oh! would to God that I had died!
That soul God's own bright image bears--?But oh! no tongue thy woes can tell;?Thy lot is cast in blood and tears,?And soon these lips must say--farewell!
ZAZA--THE FEMALE SLAVE.
Words by Miss Ball. Music by G.W.C.
[Music]
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??O my country, my country! how long I for thee,?Far over the mountain, far over the sea.
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.
PRAYER FOR THE SLAVE.
Tune--Hamburgh.
[Music]
Oh let the pris'ner's mournful sighs?As incense in thy sight appear!?Their humble wailings pierce the skies,?If haply they may feel thee near.
The captive exiles make their moans,?From sin impatient to be free;?Call home, call home, thy banished ones!?Lead captive their captivity!
Out of the deep regard their cries,?The fallen raise, the mourners cheer,?Oh, Son of Righteousness, arise,?And scatter all their doubts and fear.
Stand by them in the fiery hour,?Their feebleness of mind defend;?And in their weakness show thy power,?And make them patient to the end.
Relieve the souls whose cross we bear,?For whom thy suffering members mourn:?Answer our faith's effectual prayer;?And break the yoke so meekly borne!
Remembering that God is just.
Oh righteous God! whose awful frown?Can crumble nations to the dust,?Trembling we stand before thy throne,?When we reflect that thou art just.
Dost thou not see the dreadful wrong,?Which Afric's injured race sustains??And wilt thou not arise ere long,?To plead their cause, and break their chains?
Must not thine anger quickly rise?Against the men whom lust controls,?Who dare thy righteous laws despise?And traffic in the blood of souls?
THE FUGITIVE.
Words by L.M.C. Air "Bonny Doon."
[Music]
A noble man of sable brow?Came to my humble cottage door,?With cautious, weary step and slow,?And asked if I could feed the poor;?He begged if I had ought to give,?To help the panting fugitive.
I told him he had fled away?From his kind master, friends, and home;?That he was black--a slave astray,?And should return as he had come;?That I would to his master give?The straying villain fugitive.
He fell upon his trembling knee?And claimed he was a brother man,?That I was bound to set him free,?According to the gospel plan;?And if I would God's grace receive,?That I must help the fugitive.
He showed the stripes his master gave,?The festering wound--the sightless eye,?The common badges of the slave,?And said he would be free, or die;?And if I nothing had to give,?I should not stop the fugitive.
He owned his was a sable skin,?That which his Maker first had given;?But mine would be a darker sin,?That would exclude my soul from heaven:?And if I would God's grace receive,?I should relieve the fugitive.
I bowed and took the stranger in,?And gave him meat, and drink, and rest,?I hope that God forgave my sin,?And made me with that brother blest;?I am resolved, long as I live,?To help the panting fugitive.
AM I NOT A MAN AND BROTHER?
Words by A.C.L. Air--"Bride's Farewell."
[Music]
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