HOW LONG?

Howlong, O gracious God! how long,Shall power lord it over right?The feeble, trampled by the strong,Remain in slavery’s gloomy night?In every region of the earth,Oppression rules with iron power;And every man of sterling worth,Whose soul disdains to cringe or cowerBeneath a haughty tyrant’s nod,And, supplicating, kiss the rodThat, wielded by oppression’s might,Smites to the earth his dearest right,—The right to speak, and think, and feel,And spread his uttered thoughts abroad,To labor for the common weal,Responsible to none but God,—Is threatened with the dungeon’s gloom,The felon’s cell, the traitor’s doom,And treacherous politicians leagueWith hireling priests, to crush and banAll who expose their vile intrigue,And vindicate the rights of man.How long shall Afric’ raise to theeHer fettered hand, O Lord! in vain,And plead in fearful agonyFor vengeance for her children slain?I see the Gambia’s swelling flood,And Niger’s darkly rolling wave,Bear on their bosoms, stained with blood,The bound and lacerated slave;While numerous tribes spread near and far,Fierce, devastating, barbarous war,Earth’s fairest scenes in ruin laid,To furnish victims for that trade,Which breeds on earth such deeds of shame,As fiends might blush to hear or name.I see where Danube’s waters roll,And where the Magyar vainly strove,With valiant arm and faithful soul,In battle for the land he loved,—A perjured tyrant’s legions treadThe ground where Freedom’s heroes bled,And still the voice of those who feelTheir country’s wrongs, with Austrian steel.I see the “Rugged Russian Bear,”Lead forth his slavish hordes, to warUpon the right of every StateIts own affairs to regulate;To help each despot bind the chainUpon the people’s rights again,And crush beneath his ponderous pawAll constitutions, rights, and law.I see in France,—O burning shame!—The shadow of a mighty name,Wielding the power her patriot bandsHad boldly wrenched from kingly hands,With more despotic pride of swayThan ever monarch dared display.The Fisher, too, whose world-wide netsAre spread to snare the souls of men,By foreign tyrants’ bayonetsEstablished on his throne again,Blesses the swords still reeking redWith the best blood his country bore,And prays for blessings on the headOf him who wades through Roman gore.The same unholy sacrificeWhere’er I turn bursts on mine eyes,Of princely pomp, and priestly pride,The people trampled in the dust,Their dearest, holiest rights denied,Their hopes destroyed, their spirit crushed:But when I turn the land to view,Which claims, par excellence, to beThe refuge of the brave and true,The strongest bulwark of the free,The grand asylum for the poorAnd trodden down of every land,Where they may rest in peace, secure,Nor fear the oppressor’s iron hand,—Worse scenes of rapine, lust, and shame,Than e’er disgraced the Russian name,Worse than the Austrian ever saw,Are sanctioned here as righteous law.Here might the Austrian butcher[M]makeProgress in shameful cruelty,Where women-whippers proudly takeThe meed and praise of chivalry.Here might the cunning Jesuit learn,Though skilled in subtle sophistry,And trained to persevere in sternUnsympathizing cruelty,And call that good, which, right or wrong,Will tend to make his order strong:He here might learn from those who standHigh in the gospel ministry,The very magnates of the landIn evangelic piety,That conscience must not only bendTo everything the church decrees,But it must also condescend,When drunken politicians pleaseTo place their own inhuman actsAbove the “higher law” of God,And on the hunted victim’s tracksCheer the malignant fiends of blood,To help the man-thief bind the chainUpon his Christian brother’s limb,And bear to slavery’s hell againThe bound and suffering child of HimWho died upon the cross, to saveAlike, the master and the slave.While all the oppressed from every landAre welcomed here with open hand,And fulsome praises rend the heavenFor those who have the fetters rivenOf European tyranny,And bravely struck for liberty;And while from thirty thousand fanesMock prayers go up, and hymns are sung,Three million drag their clanking chains,“Unwept, unhonored, and unsung;”Doomed to a state of slavery,Compared with which the darkest nightOf European tyranny,Seems brilliant as the noonday light.While politicians void of shame,Cry this is law and liberty,The clergy lend the awful nameAnd sanction of the Deity,To help sustain the monstrous wrong,And crush the weak beneath the strong.Lord, thou hast said the tyrant’s earShall not be always closed to thee,But that thou wilt in wrath appear,And set the trembling captive free.And even now dark omens riseTo those who either see or hear,And gather o’er the darkening skiesThe threatening signs of fate and fear;Not like the plagues which Egypt saw,When rising in an evil hour,A rebel ’gainst the “higher law,”And glorying in her mighty power,—Saw blasting fire, and blighting hail,Sweep o’er her rich and fertile vale,And heard on every rising galeAscend the bitter mourning wail;And blighted herd, and blasted plain,Through all the land the first-born slain,Her priests and magi made to cowerIn witness of a higher power,And darkness like a sable pallShrouding the land in deepest gloom,Sent sadly through the minds of all,Forebodings of approaching doom.What though no real shower of fireSpreads o’er this land its withering blight,Denouncing wide Jehovah’s ireLike that which palsied Egypt’s might;And though no literal darkness spreadsUpon the land its sable gloom,And seems to fling around our headsThe awful terrors of the tomb;Yet to the eye of him who readsThe fate of nations past and gone,And marks with care the wrongful deedsBy which their power was overthrown,—Worse plagues than Egypt ever feltAre seen wide-spreading through the land,Announcing that the heinous guiltOn which the nation proudly stands,Has risen to Jehovah’s throne,And kindled his Almighty ire,And broadcast through the land has sownThe seeds of a devouring fire;Blasting with foul pestiferous breath,The fountain springs of moral life,And planting deep the seeds of death,And future germs of deadly strife;And moral darkness spreads its gloomOver the land in every part,And buries in a living tombEach generous prompting of the heart.Vice in its darkest, deadliest stains,Here walks with brazen front abroad,And foul corruption proudly reignsTriumphant in the church of God,And sinks so low the Christian name,In foul degrading vice and shame,That Moslem, Heathen, Atheist, Jew,And men of every faith and creed,To their professions far more true,More liberal both in word and deed,May well reject with loathing scornThe doctrines taught by those who sellTheir brethren in the Saviour born,Down into slavery’s hateful hell;And with the price of Christian bloodBuild temples to the Christian’s God,And offer up as sacrifice,And incense to the God of heaven,The mourning wail, and bitter cries,Of mothers from their children riven;Of virgin purity profanedTo sate some brutal ruffian’s lust,Millions of godlike minds ordainedTo grovel ever in the dust,Shut out by Christian power and mightFrom every ray of Christian light.How long, O Lord! shall such vile deedsBe acted in thy holy name,And senseless bigots o’er their creedsFill the whole world with war and flame?How long shall ruthless tyrants claimThy sanction to their bloody laws,And throw the mantle of thy nameAround their foul, unhallowed cause?How long shall all the people bowAs vassals of the favored few,And shame the pride of manhood’s brow,—Give what to God alone is due,Homage, to wealth, and rank, and power,Vain shadows of a passing hour?Oh for a pen of living fire,A tongue of flame, an arm of steel!To rouse the people’s slumbering ire,And teach the tyrants’ hearts to feel.O Lord! in vengeance now appear,And guide the battles for the right,The spirits of the fainting cheer,And nerve the patriot’s arm with might;Till slavery, banished from the world,And tyrants from their power hurled,And all mankind from bondage free,Exult in glorious liberty!

Howlong, O gracious God! how long,

Shall power lord it over right?

The feeble, trampled by the strong,

Remain in slavery’s gloomy night?

In every region of the earth,

Oppression rules with iron power;

And every man of sterling worth,

Whose soul disdains to cringe or cower

Beneath a haughty tyrant’s nod,

And, supplicating, kiss the rod

That, wielded by oppression’s might,

Smites to the earth his dearest right,—

The right to speak, and think, and feel,

And spread his uttered thoughts abroad,

To labor for the common weal,

Responsible to none but God,—

Is threatened with the dungeon’s gloom,

The felon’s cell, the traitor’s doom,

And treacherous politicians league

With hireling priests, to crush and ban

All who expose their vile intrigue,

And vindicate the rights of man.

How long shall Afric’ raise to thee

Her fettered hand, O Lord! in vain,

And plead in fearful agony

For vengeance for her children slain?

I see the Gambia’s swelling flood,

And Niger’s darkly rolling wave,

Bear on their bosoms, stained with blood,

The bound and lacerated slave;

While numerous tribes spread near and far,

Fierce, devastating, barbarous war,

Earth’s fairest scenes in ruin laid,

To furnish victims for that trade,

Which breeds on earth such deeds of shame,

As fiends might blush to hear or name.

I see where Danube’s waters roll,

And where the Magyar vainly strove,

With valiant arm and faithful soul,

In battle for the land he loved,—

A perjured tyrant’s legions tread

The ground where Freedom’s heroes bled,

And still the voice of those who feel

Their country’s wrongs, with Austrian steel.

I see the “Rugged Russian Bear,”

Lead forth his slavish hordes, to war

Upon the right of every State

Its own affairs to regulate;

To help each despot bind the chain

Upon the people’s rights again,

And crush beneath his ponderous paw

All constitutions, rights, and law.

I see in France,—O burning shame!—

The shadow of a mighty name,

Wielding the power her patriot bands

Had boldly wrenched from kingly hands,

With more despotic pride of sway

Than ever monarch dared display.

The Fisher, too, whose world-wide nets

Are spread to snare the souls of men,

By foreign tyrants’ bayonets

Established on his throne again,

Blesses the swords still reeking red

With the best blood his country bore,

And prays for blessings on the head

Of him who wades through Roman gore.

The same unholy sacrifice

Where’er I turn bursts on mine eyes,

Of princely pomp, and priestly pride,

The people trampled in the dust,

Their dearest, holiest rights denied,

Their hopes destroyed, their spirit crushed:

But when I turn the land to view,

Which claims, par excellence, to be

The refuge of the brave and true,

The strongest bulwark of the free,

The grand asylum for the poor

And trodden down of every land,

Where they may rest in peace, secure,

Nor fear the oppressor’s iron hand,—

Worse scenes of rapine, lust, and shame,

Than e’er disgraced the Russian name,

Worse than the Austrian ever saw,

Are sanctioned here as righteous law.

Here might the Austrian butcher[M]make

Progress in shameful cruelty,

Where women-whippers proudly take

The meed and praise of chivalry.

Here might the cunning Jesuit learn,

Though skilled in subtle sophistry,

And trained to persevere in stern

Unsympathizing cruelty,

And call that good, which, right or wrong,

Will tend to make his order strong:

He here might learn from those who stand

High in the gospel ministry,

The very magnates of the land

In evangelic piety,

That conscience must not only bend

To everything the church decrees,

But it must also condescend,

When drunken politicians please

To place their own inhuman acts

Above the “higher law” of God,

And on the hunted victim’s tracks

Cheer the malignant fiends of blood,

To help the man-thief bind the chain

Upon his Christian brother’s limb,

And bear to slavery’s hell again

The bound and suffering child of Him

Who died upon the cross, to save

Alike, the master and the slave.

While all the oppressed from every land

Are welcomed here with open hand,

And fulsome praises rend the heaven

For those who have the fetters riven

Of European tyranny,

And bravely struck for liberty;

And while from thirty thousand fanes

Mock prayers go up, and hymns are sung,

Three million drag their clanking chains,

“Unwept, unhonored, and unsung;”

Doomed to a state of slavery,

Compared with which the darkest night

Of European tyranny,

Seems brilliant as the noonday light.

While politicians void of shame,

Cry this is law and liberty,

The clergy lend the awful name

And sanction of the Deity,

To help sustain the monstrous wrong,

And crush the weak beneath the strong.

Lord, thou hast said the tyrant’s ear

Shall not be always closed to thee,

But that thou wilt in wrath appear,

And set the trembling captive free.

And even now dark omens rise

To those who either see or hear,

And gather o’er the darkening skies

The threatening signs of fate and fear;

Not like the plagues which Egypt saw,

When rising in an evil hour,

A rebel ’gainst the “higher law,”

And glorying in her mighty power,—

Saw blasting fire, and blighting hail,

Sweep o’er her rich and fertile vale,

And heard on every rising gale

Ascend the bitter mourning wail;

And blighted herd, and blasted plain,

Through all the land the first-born slain,

Her priests and magi made to cower

In witness of a higher power,

And darkness like a sable pall

Shrouding the land in deepest gloom,

Sent sadly through the minds of all,

Forebodings of approaching doom.

What though no real shower of fire

Spreads o’er this land its withering blight,

Denouncing wide Jehovah’s ire

Like that which palsied Egypt’s might;

And though no literal darkness spreads

Upon the land its sable gloom,

And seems to fling around our heads

The awful terrors of the tomb;

Yet to the eye of him who reads

The fate of nations past and gone,

And marks with care the wrongful deeds

By which their power was overthrown,—

Worse plagues than Egypt ever felt

Are seen wide-spreading through the land,

Announcing that the heinous guilt

On which the nation proudly stands,

Has risen to Jehovah’s throne,

And kindled his Almighty ire,

And broadcast through the land has sown

The seeds of a devouring fire;

Blasting with foul pestiferous breath,

The fountain springs of moral life,

And planting deep the seeds of death,

And future germs of deadly strife;

And moral darkness spreads its gloom

Over the land in every part,

And buries in a living tomb

Each generous prompting of the heart.

Vice in its darkest, deadliest stains,

Here walks with brazen front abroad,

And foul corruption proudly reigns

Triumphant in the church of God,

And sinks so low the Christian name,

In foul degrading vice and shame,

That Moslem, Heathen, Atheist, Jew,

And men of every faith and creed,

To their professions far more true,

More liberal both in word and deed,

May well reject with loathing scorn

The doctrines taught by those who sell

Their brethren in the Saviour born,

Down into slavery’s hateful hell;

And with the price of Christian blood

Build temples to the Christian’s God,

And offer up as sacrifice,

And incense to the God of heaven,

The mourning wail, and bitter cries,

Of mothers from their children riven;

Of virgin purity profaned

To sate some brutal ruffian’s lust,

Millions of godlike minds ordained

To grovel ever in the dust,

Shut out by Christian power and might

From every ray of Christian light.

How long, O Lord! shall such vile deeds

Be acted in thy holy name,

And senseless bigots o’er their creeds

Fill the whole world with war and flame?

How long shall ruthless tyrants claim

Thy sanction to their bloody laws,

And throw the mantle of thy name

Around their foul, unhallowed cause?

How long shall all the people bow

As vassals of the favored few,

And shame the pride of manhood’s brow,—

Give what to God alone is due,

Homage, to wealth, and rank, and power,

Vain shadows of a passing hour?

Oh for a pen of living fire,

A tongue of flame, an arm of steel!

To rouse the people’s slumbering ire,

And teach the tyrants’ hearts to feel.

O Lord! in vengeance now appear,

And guide the battles for the right,

The spirits of the fainting cheer,

And nerve the patriot’s arm with might;

Till slavery, banished from the world,

And tyrants from their power hurled,

And all mankind from bondage free,

Exult in glorious liberty!

J. M. Whitfield.

Back to Index Next