"When he went from the jail to the gallows, he stooped to kiss a colored child that stood near."The following lines were written by Mrs. Lydia Maria Child, and sung at the Music Hall, on the twenty-sixth National Anti-Slavery…
"Lord, thou art great!" I cry when in the East,
The day is blooming like a rose of fire,
When to partake anew of life's rich feast
Nature and man awake with fresh desire;
When art thou seen more gracious, God of power? Than in the morn's great…
Securely chained to the walls of stone,Within a dungeon damp and low—There ne'er was heard a triendly tone;
A captive slept,
A youthful brow the captive bore,And sadness deep his features wore,For darksome clouds his spirit o'er
Had rudely…
John Brown of Osawatomie
Spake on his dying day:
"I will not have to shrive my soul
A priest in slavery's pay;
But let some poor slave mother,
Whom I have striven to free,
With her children, from the gallows-stair
Put up a prayer for me!
John…
Think gently of the erring—
Ye know not of the power
With which the dark temptation came
In some unguarded hour.
Ye may not know how earnestly
They struggled, or how well,
Until the hour of weaknes came,
And sadly thus they fell.
Think gently…
"E. Pluribus Unum."The father, mother, daughter son,A precious many all in one—A sacredOne, of many made,To which should homage true be paid.Upon them shine the sun of peace,Nor o'er its holy beaming cease,As halo-life they circle roundThe hearth…
A SOUTH AFRICAN BORDER BALLAD.---
A TRUE STORY. ---BY THOMAS PRINGE,A noble-hearted Scotchman, who resided some time in South Africa.
We met in the midst of the Neutral Ground,'Mong the hills where the buffalo's haunts are found;And we joined in…
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying clouds, the frostly light;
The Year is dying in the night,
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new;
Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
The Year is going, let it…
Thank God for little children!
Bright flowers by earth's wayside,
The dancing, joyous life-boats
Upon life's stormy tide!
Thank God for little children!
When our skies are cold and gray,
They steal as sunshine in our hearts,
And steal our…
Philanthropist.
Wearing pedestrian, where are you goingBundle in one hand, and bandbox in t'other?
Irish Help.
Going to seek a new place, if you plase, sir—Sad is my heart, though my feeling I smother
Philanthropist.
Yes, in your face I see…
