land the lesson learn--
To bid the slave be free.

YE SPIRITS OF THE FREE.

Air--"My faith looks up to thee."

[Music]

Ye spirits of the free,
Can ye for ever see
Your brother man
A yoked and scourged slave,
Chains dragging to his grave,
And raise no hand to save?
Say if you can.

In pride and pomp to roll,
Shall tyrants from the soul
God's image tear,
And call the wreck their own,--
While from th' eternal throne,
They shut the stifled groan,
And bitter prayer?

Shall he a slave be bound,
Whom God hath doubly crowned
Creation's lord?
Shall men of Christian name,
Without a blush of shame,
Profess their tyrant claim
From God's own word?

No! at the battle cry,
A host prepared to die,
Shall arm for fight--
But not with martial steel,
Grasped with a murderous zeal;
No arms their foes shall feel,
But love and light.

Firm on Jehovah's laws,
Strong in their righteous cause,
They march to save.
And vain the tyrant's mail,
Against their battle-hail,
Till cease the woe and wail
Of tortured slave!

Sing Me a Triumph Song.

Sing me a triumph song,
Roll the glad notes along,
Great God, to thee!
Thine be the glory bright,
Source of all power and might!
For thou hast said, in might,
Man shall be free.

Sing me a triumph song,
Let all the sound prolong,
Air, earth, and sea,
Down falls the tyrant's power,
See his dread minions cower;
Now, from this glorious hour,
Man will be free.

Sing me a triumph song,
Sing in the mighty throng,
Sing Jubilee!
Let the broad welkin ring,
While to heaven's mighty King,
Honor and praise we sing,
For man is free.

WAKE, SONS OF THE PILGRIMS.

Air--"M'Gregor's Gathering."

[Music]

Wake, sons of the Pilgrims, and look to your right!
The despots of Slav'ry are up in their might:
Indulge not in sleep, it's like digging the graves
Of blood-purchased freedom--'tis yielding like slaves.
Then halloo, halloo, halloo to the contest,
Awake from your slumbers, no longer delay,
But struggle for freedom, while struggle you may--
Then rally, rally, rally, rally, rally, rally,
While our forests shall wave or while rushes a river,
Oh, yield not your birth-right! maintain it for ever!

Wake, Sons of the Pilgrims! why slumber ye on?
Your chains are now forging, your fetters are done;
Oh! sleep not, like Samson, on Slavery's foul arm,
For, Delilah-like, she's now planning your harm.
Then halloo, halloo, hal