For sea and land don't understand,

Nor skies without a frown

See rights for which the one hand fights By the other cloven down.

Be just at home; then write your scroll Of honor o'er the sea,

And bid the broad Atlantic roll,

A ferry of the free.

And henceforth there shall be no chain,

Save underneath the sea

The wires shall murmur through the main Sweet songs of liberty.

The conscious stars accord above,

The waters wild below,

And under, through the cable wove,

Her fiery errands go.

For He that worketh high and wise,
Nor pauses in his plan,

Will take the sun out of the skies

Ere freedom out of man.

BOSTON HYMN

READ IN MUSIC HALL, JANUARY 1, 1863

THE word of the Lord by night
To the watching Pilgrims came,
As they sat by the seaside,

And filled their hearts with flame.

God said, I am tired of kings,
I suffer them no more;

Up to my ear the morning brings
The outrage of the poor.

Think ye I made this ball

A field of havoc and war,

Where tyrants great and tyrants small Might harry the weak and poor?

My angel, his name is Freedom,——
Choose him to be your king;

He shall cut pathways east and west
And fend you with his wing.

Lo! I uncover the land

Which I hid of old time in the West, As the sculptor uncovers the statue When he has wrought his best;

I show Columbia, of the rocks
Which dip their foot in the seas
And soar to the air-borne flocks
Of clouds and the boreal fleece.

I will divide my goods;

Call in the wretch and slave:
None shall rule but the humble,
And none but Toil shall have.

I will have never a noble,
No lineage counted great;

Fishers and choppers and ploughmen
Shall constitute a state.

Go, cut down trees in the forest
And trim the straightest boughs;

Cut down trees in the forest
And build me a wooden house.

Call the people together,
The young men and the sires,
The digger in the harvest-field,
Hireling and him that hires;

And here in a pine state-house
They shall choose men to rule
In every needful faculty,

In church and state and school.

Lo, now! if these poor men
Can govern the land and sea

And make just laws below the sun,
As planets faithful be.

And

ye

shall succor men ;

'Tis nobleness to serve;

Help them who cannot help again:
Beware from right to swerve.

I break your bonds and masterships, And I unchain the slave:

Free be his heart and hand henceforth As wind and wandering wave.

To-day unbind the captive,
So only are ye unbound;
Lift up a people from the dust,
Trump of their rescue, sound!

Pay ransom to the owner

And fill the bag to the brim.'

Who is the owner? The slave is owner,

And ever was. Pay him.

O North! give him beauty for rags,
And honor, O South! for his shame;
Nevada! coin thy golden crags

With Freedom's image and name.

Up! and the dusky race

That sat in darkness long, –

Be swift their feet as antelopes,

And as behemoth strong.

Come, East and West and North,

By races, as snow-flakes,

And carry my purpose forth,

Which neither halts nor shakes.

My will fulfilled shall be,

For, in daylight or in dark,
My thunderbolt has eyes to see
way home to the mark.

His