He’s not at all the man for me,
  Who sells a man for gain,
Who bends the pliant servile knee,
  To Slavery’s god of shame! 
But he whose God-like form erect
  Proclaims that all alike are free
To think, and speak, and vote, and act,
  O, that’s the man for me.

He sure is not the man for me
  Whose spirit will succumb,
When men endowed with Liberty
  Lie bleeding, bound and dumb;
But he whose faithful words of might
  Ring through the land from shore to sea,
For man’s eternal equal right,
  O, that’s the man for me.

No, no, he’s not the man for me
  Whose voice o’er hill and plain,
Breaks forth for glorious liberty,
  But binds himself, the chain! 
The mightiest of the noble band
  Who prays and toils the world to free,
With head, and heart, and voice, and vote,
  O, that’s the man for me.

THE BONDMAN.

AIR—­Troubadour.

Feebly the bondman toiled,
  Sadly he wept—­
Then to his wretched cot
  Mournfully crept;
How doth his free-born soul
  Pine ’neath his chain! 
Slavery!  Slavery! 
  Dark is thy reign.

Long ere the break of day,
  Roused from repose,
Wearily toiling
  Till after its close—­
Praying for freedom,
  He spends his last breath: 
Liberty!  Liberty! 
  Give me or death.

When, when, O Lord! will right
  Triumph o’er wrong? 
Tyrants oppress the weak,
  O Lord! how long? 
Hark! hark! a peal resounds
  From shore to shore—­
Tyranny!  Tyranny! 
  Thy reign is o’er.

E’en now the morning
  Gleams from the East—­
Despots are feeling
  Their triumph is past—­
Strong hearts are answering
  To freedom’s loud call—­
Liberty!  Liberty! 
  Full and for all.

RIGHT ON.

AIR—­Lenox.

Ho! children of the brave,
  Ho! freemen of the land,
That hurl’d into the grave
  Oppression’s bloody band;
Come on, come on, and joined be we
To make the fettered bondman free.

Let coward vassals sneak
  From freedom’s battle still,
Poltroons that dare not speak
  But as their priests may will;
Come on, come on, and joined be we
To make the fettered bondman free.

On parchment, scroll and creed,
  With human life blood red,
Untrembling at the deed,
  Plant firm your manly tread;
The priest may howl, the jurist rave,
But we will free the fettered slave.

The tyrant’s scorn is vain,
  In vain the slanderer’s breath,
We’ll rush to break the chain,
  E’en on the jaws of death;
Hurrah!  Hurrah! right on go we,
The fettered slave shall yet be free.

Right on, in freedom’s name,
  And in the strength of God,
Wipe out the damning stain,
  And break the oppressor’s rod;
Hurrah!  Hurrah! right on go we,
The fettered slave shall yet be free.