sorrow and woe.

That poor mourning mother, of reason bereft,
Soon ended her sorrows and sank cold in death:
Thus died that slave mother, poor heart broken mother,
In sorrow and woe.

Oh! list ye kind mothers to the cries of the slave;
The parents and children implore you to save;
Go! rescue the mothers, the sisters and brothers,
From sorrow and woe.

HEARD YE THAT CRY.

From "Wind of the Winter night."

[Music]

Heard ye that cry! Twas the wail of a slave,
As he sank in despair, to the rest of the grave;
Behold him where bleeding and prostrate he lies,
Unfriended he lived, and unpitied he died.

The white man oppressed him--the white man for gold,
Made him toil amidst tortures that cannot be told;
He robbed him, and spoiled him, of all that was dear,
And made him the prey of affliction and fear.

But his anguish was seen, and his wailings were heard,
By the Lord God of Hosts; whose vengeance deferred,
Gathers force by delay, and with fury will burst,
On his impious oppressor--the tyrant accurst!

Arouse ye, arouse ye! ye generous and brave,
Plead the rights of the poor--plead the cause of the slave;
Nor cease your exertions till broken shall be
The fetters that bind him, and the slave shall be free.

Sleep on my Child.

BY R.J.H.

Sleep on, my child, in peaceful rest,
While lovely visions round thee play;
No care or grief has touched thy breast,
Thy life is yet a cloudless day.

Far distant is my childhood's home--
No mother's smiles--no father's care!
Oh! how I'd love again to roam,
Where once my little playmates were!

Sleep on, thou hast not felt the chain;
But though 'tis yet unmingled joy,
I may not see those smiles again,
Nor clasp thee to my breast, my boy.

And must I see thee toil and bleed!
Thy manly soul in fetters tied;
'Twill wring thy mother's heart indeed--
Oh! would to God that I had died!

That soul God's own bright image bears--
But oh! no tongue thy woes can tell;
Thy lot is cast in blood and tears,
And soon these lips must say--farewell!

ZAZA--THE FEMALE SLAVE.

Words by Miss Ball. Music by G.W.C.

[Music]

O my country, my country! how long I for thee,
Far over the mountain, far over the sea.
Where the sweet Joliba kisses the shore,
Say, shall I wander by thee never more?
Where the sweet Joliba kisses the shore,
Say, shall I wander by thee never more?
O my country, my country! how long I for thee,
Far over the m