Forbid that they as slaves to man shall bow! 
        For them our fathers nobly fought and bled;

       For them they poured their life-blood forth as rain;
        Shall it in foreign lands of us be said,

       We bind our brothers with a galling chain? 
    While the Old World is struggling to be free,
    America! shall this foul charge be laid to thee? 
        We all may err; may oft be led astray;

       Let him who’d free the slave be careful he
        Is not a slave himself to some fond way

       He would adopt to set his brother free! 
        All seek one end; for all one good would gain;

       Then, on as brothers, hand in hand proceed! 
        Paths that seem intricate will all be plain,

       If we but follow where God’s truth would lead.

    Trust Him for strength in darkness and in light;
    His word will cheer us on,—­His presence give us might.

SONG OF THE BIRD.

    On the topmost branch of the highest tree
    I sit and sing, I am free!  I am free! 
    When the lightnings flash, when the thunders roar,
    I plume my wings and away I soar! 
    But soon on the branch of a lofty tree
    Gayly I sing, I am free!  I am free! 
    A huntsman he came by my nest one day,
    And thought that with gun my song he would stay;
    But I left my nest when he thought me there,
    And I roamed about in my native air. 
    Then, when he was gone, on the highest tree
    Gayly I sung, I am free!  I am free! 
    It is I, ’t is I, that at dawn of day
    Go to meet the sun at its earliest ray. 
    I love its heat; so I cheer it along
    With chirping notes and melodious song;
    And all the day on the highest tree
    Gayly I sing, I am free!  I am free! 
    When the dusky shades of the night appear,
    In my nest on high I have naught to fear;
    Sweetly I slumber till dawning of day,
    Then to the East, for the sun, I’m away,
    Till, borne on its rays to the highest tree,
    Gayly I sing, I am free!  I am free! 
    O, I love my nest, and my nest loves me! 
    It rocks like a bark on the dancing sea;
    Gently it bows when I wish to retire;
    When in, it rises higher and higher. 
    O, I love my nest, and I love the tree,
    Home and the haunt of the bird that is free!

I CHANGE BUT IN DYING.

    I change but in dying,—­I am faithful till death! 
    I will guard thee with care from pollution’s foul breath;
    I promise that ne’er in neglect thou shalt pine;
    I change but in dying,—­say, wilt thou be mine? 
    I come not with riches; good fortune ne’er blest me;
    Yet one of less worth hath often carest me;
    The light of true love o’er