They are slaves who fear to speak
For the fallen and the weak;
They are slaves, who will not choose
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse,
Rather than, in silence, shrink
From the truth they needs must think;
They are slaves, who dare not be
In the right with two or three.

EMANCIPATION SONG.

AIR—­Crambambule.

Let waiting throngs now lift their voices,
  As Freedom’s glorious day draws near,
While every gentle tongue rejoices,
  And each bold heart is filled with cheer;
The slave has seen the Northern star,
He’ll soon be free, hurrah, hurrah!

Though many still are writhing under
  The cruel whips of “chevaliers,”
Who mothers from their children sunder,
  And scourge them for their helpless tears—­
Their safe deliverance is not far! 
The day draws nigh!—­hurrah, hurrah!

Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest
  Surrounds the earth as with a pall;
Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest,
  That on thy sight the rays may fall! 
No doubt let now thy bosom mar;
Send up the shout—­hurrah, hurrah!

Shall we distrust the God of Heaven?—­
  He every doubt and fear will quell;
By him the captive’s chains are riven—­
  So let us loud the chorus swell! 
Man shall be free from cruel law,—­
Man shall be MAN!—­hurrah, hurrah!

No more again shall it be granted
  To southern overseers to rule—­
No more will pilgrims’ sons be taunted
  With cringing low in slavery’s school. 
So clear the way for Freedom’s car—­
The free shall rule!—­hurrah, hurrah!

Send up the shout Emancipation—­
  From heaven let the echoes bound—­
Soon will it bless this franchised nation,
  Come raise again the stirring sound! 
Emancipation near and far—­
Swell up the shout—­hurrah! hurrah!

WHAT MEAN YE?

AIR—­Ortonville.

What mean ye that ye bruise and bind
  My people, saith the Lord,
And starve your craving brother’s mind,
  Who asks to hear my word?

What mean ye that ye make them toil,
  Through long and dreary years,
And shed like rain upon your soil
  Their blood and bitter tears?

What mean ye, that ye dare to rend
  The tender mother’s heart? 
Brothers from sisters, friend from friend,
  How dare you bid them part?

What mean ye, when God’s bounteous hand
  To you so much has given,
That from the slave who tills your land
  Ye keep both earth and heaven?

When at the judgment God shall call,
  Where is thy brother? say,
What mean ye to the Judge of all
  To answer on that day?

LIGHT OF TRUTH.

Hark! a voice from heaven proclaiming
  Comfort to the mourning slave: 
God has heard him long complaining,
  And extends his arm to save;
    Proud Oppression
Soon shall find a shameful grave.