From old Virginia's mountains,
From Carolina's strand,
Where Georgia's glittering fountains
Abound with golden sand;
From many a Southern river,
From many a vale and plain,
They call us to deliver
From Slavery's galling chain.
What through…
I've listened to the cold farewell,
The careless, short good bye,
When not a tear of sadness fell,
Or tributary sigh.
I've felt the pressure of the hand
At parting, 'gainst mine own, -
The serving of a happy band
That long on love had…
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls
The burial-ground, "God's Acre!" It is just;
It consecrates each grave within its walls,
And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.
"God's-Acre!" Yes; that blessed name imparts
Comfort to those,…
Hail to the land, where the white man breathes free as the air,But the soul-fetter'd black man pours the wail of despair!Where the alter with the flame of Liberty glows,But the Temple's surrounded with Slavery's woes: -Where the light of the…
"Have children never heard nor read,
How God abhors deceit and wrong!
How Annanias was struck dead,
Caught with a lie upon his tongue!
So die his wife Sapphira die
When she came in, and grew so bold,
As to confirm the wicked lie,
That, just…
Ho, every one that thirsteth:
See ye where the waters flow,
Gleaming, gleaming, O how brightly!
In the blessed sunshine's glow?
Not a ripple swells their surface,
Not a stain dark earth hath given,
Not an image meets their pureness,
Save the…
SWEET music in the wave-worn ear!
It is the seaman's cry,
When the first speck of home-land near
Breaks on the eager eye;
Then, loud as lip the news can spread, The top-mast man shouts - "Land a-head!" O, as those gladsome tidings speed
Down…
Like an ocean breeze afloat,In a little pearly boat -Pearl within, and round about,And a silken streamer out.Over the sea, over the sea.Merrily, merrily saileth he!Not for battle, not for pelf,But to pleasure his own self,Sails he on for many a…
A truly affecting and instructive incident, which can hardly fail to come home to one's bosom with salutary force."Mother," said a little sick son, about four years of age, "will you pray? - I can't say 'Our Father' now."----Pray, mother, pray, for…
Shipmates, come, our toils are o'er -
Haste to join the gathering throng:
Think of stormy seas no more,
But unite in glorious song:
Sing the praise of Him who died,
That our souls might ever be
Through his mercy sanctified,
…
