Oh! beauty, where now is that grace,
Of which, thou so vainly did'st boast;
Where now is that beautiful face,
That the beaux delighted to toast?
Where now is that form you admired,
And anxiously sought to adorn;
The bosom that cheerfulness fired;
Oh!…
'T was the grey of the evening. A consorious spellCame over my thoughts, as the shade o'er the dell;For the spirit of liberty mantled the plain,But wherever I moved was the clank of a chain.The cattle were lowing and seeking their rest,And songsters…
[The words of this song were written in 1843, by Henry Ware Jr.; the tune, familiar to many, is said to have been first played on the entrance of the Allies into Paris.] Oppression shall not always reign,
There comes a brighter day,
When Freedom,…
The new-born Moon lies low on breastOf western sky, a silver streakScarce seen by me, a gentle freakOf nature's fancy, mild-light crestOf night's soft glory, whispering peaceTo grief hit watcher's weary soul,And giving promise rich and wholeIn truth…
Wake! children of the men who said,"All are born free!" Their spirits comeBack to the places where they bledIn Freedom's holy martyrdom,And find you sleeping on their graves,And hugging there your chains, - ye slaves!Ay - slaves of slaves! What,…
One beautiful Easter morning,
While nature seemed fresh and fair,
Three children of men with their offerings
Went up to the house of prayer.
The first one laid on the altar
A goodly sum of gold,
Saying "This is my Easter offering
But my heart…
1.
I have a son, a little son, a boy just five years old,With eyes of thoughtful earnestness, and mind of gentle mould.They tell me that unusual grace in all his ways appears -That my child is wise and grave of heart, beyond his childish years.I…
Deck thyself, my soul, with gladness,Leave the gloomy haunts of sadness,Come into the daylight's splendor,There with joy thy praises renderUnto Him whose boundless graceGrants thee at His feet a place;He whom all the heavens obey,Deigns to dwell in…
Adieu, to my dear native shore,To toss on the boisterous wave;To enjoy my kindred no more,But to weep - the tears of a SLAVE!By the sons of freemen I'm borne,To a land of the free and the brave;From my wife and children I'm torn,To weep - the sad…
I saw my darling in calm slumber lying,
His still, pale face so beautiful in death;
So like sweet sleep, that, hushed from tears and sighting,
I looked and listened to his gentle breath.
His little hands, so white and thin, were folded,
Clasping…
