When earth in bondage long had lain,And darkness o'er the nations reigned,And all man's precepts proved in vain,A perfect system to obtain:A voice commissioned from on high;Hark, hark, it is the angel's cry,Descending from the throne of light,His garments shining clear and white.He comes the gospel to revealIn fulness, to the sons of men;Lo! from Cumorah's lonely hill,There comes a record of God's will!Translated by the power of God,His voice bears record to his word;Again an angel did appear,As witnesses do record bear.Restored the priesthood, long since lost,In truth and power as at the first,Thus men commissioned from on high,Came forth and did repentance cry.Baptizing those who did believe,That they the spirit might receive,In fullness as in days of old,And have one shepherd and one fold.
When earth in bondage long had lain,And darkness o'er the nations reigned,And all man's precepts proved in vain,A perfect system to obtain:A voice commissioned from on high;Hark, hark, it is the angel's cry,Descending from the throne of light,His garments shining clear and white.He comes the gospel to revealIn fulness, to the sons of men;Lo! from Cumorah's lonely hill,There comes a record of God's will!Translated by the power of God,His voice bears record to his word;Again an angel did appear,As witnesses do record bear.Restored the priesthood, long since lost,In truth and power as at the first,Thus men commissioned from on high,Came forth and did repentance cry.Baptizing those who did believe,That they the spirit might receive,In fullness as in days of old,And have one shepherd and one fold.
When earth in bondage long had lain,And darkness o'er the nations reigned,And all man's precepts proved in vain,A perfect system to obtain:
A voice commissioned from on high;Hark, hark, it is the angel's cry,Descending from the throne of light,His garments shining clear and white.
He comes the gospel to revealIn fulness, to the sons of men;Lo! from Cumorah's lonely hill,There comes a record of God's will!
Translated by the power of God,His voice bears record to his word;Again an angel did appear,As witnesses do record bear.
Restored the priesthood, long since lost,In truth and power as at the first,Thus men commissioned from on high,Came forth and did repentance cry.
Baptizing those who did believe,That they the spirit might receive,In fullness as in days of old,And have one shepherd and one fold.
Ye Gentile nations, cease your strife,And listen to the words of life;Turn from your sins with one accord,Prepare to meet your coming Lord.Let Judah's remnants far and nearThe glorious proclamation hear,For Israel and the Gentiles too,The way to Zion shall pursue.Their voices and their tongues employIn songs of everlasting joy;The mountains and the hills rejoice,Let all creation hear his voice.From north to south, from east to west,In thee all nations shall be blessed,When Abram and his seed shall standUnnumbered on the promised land.
Ye Gentile nations, cease your strife,And listen to the words of life;Turn from your sins with one accord,Prepare to meet your coming Lord.Let Judah's remnants far and nearThe glorious proclamation hear,For Israel and the Gentiles too,The way to Zion shall pursue.Their voices and their tongues employIn songs of everlasting joy;The mountains and the hills rejoice,Let all creation hear his voice.From north to south, from east to west,In thee all nations shall be blessed,When Abram and his seed shall standUnnumbered on the promised land.
Ye Gentile nations, cease your strife,And listen to the words of life;Turn from your sins with one accord,Prepare to meet your coming Lord.
Let Judah's remnants far and nearThe glorious proclamation hear,For Israel and the Gentiles too,The way to Zion shall pursue.
Their voices and their tongues employIn songs of everlasting joy;The mountains and the hills rejoice,Let all creation hear his voice.
From north to south, from east to west,In thee all nations shall be blessed,When Abram and his seed shall standUnnumbered on the promised land.
The solid rocks were rent in twain,When Christ the Lamb of God was slain;The sun in darkness veiled his face,The mountains moved and left their place.And all creation groaned in painTill the Messiah rose again;When earth did cease her dreadful groans,The sun unveiled his face and shone;The righteous that were spared alive,With joy and wonder did believe,And soon together they convenedConversing on the things they'd seen:Which had been given for a sign,When lo, they heard a voice divine,And as the heavenly voice they heardThe Lord of glory soon appeared.
The solid rocks were rent in twain,When Christ the Lamb of God was slain;The sun in darkness veiled his face,The mountains moved and left their place.And all creation groaned in painTill the Messiah rose again;When earth did cease her dreadful groans,The sun unveiled his face and shone;The righteous that were spared alive,With joy and wonder did believe,And soon together they convenedConversing on the things they'd seen:Which had been given for a sign,When lo, they heard a voice divine,And as the heavenly voice they heardThe Lord of glory soon appeared.
The solid rocks were rent in twain,When Christ the Lamb of God was slain;The sun in darkness veiled his face,The mountains moved and left their place.
And all creation groaned in painTill the Messiah rose again;When earth did cease her dreadful groans,The sun unveiled his face and shone;
The righteous that were spared alive,With joy and wonder did believe,And soon together they convenedConversing on the things they'd seen:
Which had been given for a sign,When lo, they heard a voice divine,And as the heavenly voice they heardThe Lord of glory soon appeared.
With joy and wonder all amazed,Upon their glorious Lord they gazed,And wist not what the vision meantBut thought it was an angel sentWhile in their midst he smiling stood,Proclaimed himself the son of God,He said come forth and feel and see,That you may witness bear of me.And when they all had felt and seenWhere once the nails and spear had been,Hosanna they aloud proclaimed,And blessed and praised his holy name,He then proceeded to make plainHis gospel to the sons of men,The prophecies he did unfold,Yea, things that were in days of old.And every thing that should transpireTill element should melt with fire,Commanding them for to recordThe sayings of their risen Lord;That generation should be blessed,And with him in his kingdom rest;But, O! what scenes of sorrow rolledWhen he the future did unfold!
With joy and wonder all amazed,Upon their glorious Lord they gazed,And wist not what the vision meantBut thought it was an angel sentWhile in their midst he smiling stood,Proclaimed himself the son of God,He said come forth and feel and see,That you may witness bear of me.And when they all had felt and seenWhere once the nails and spear had been,Hosanna they aloud proclaimed,And blessed and praised his holy name,He then proceeded to make plainHis gospel to the sons of men,The prophecies he did unfold,Yea, things that were in days of old.And every thing that should transpireTill element should melt with fire,Commanding them for to recordThe sayings of their risen Lord;That generation should be blessed,And with him in his kingdom rest;But, O! what scenes of sorrow rolledWhen he the future did unfold!
With joy and wonder all amazed,Upon their glorious Lord they gazed,And wist not what the vision meantBut thought it was an angel sent
While in their midst he smiling stood,Proclaimed himself the son of God,He said come forth and feel and see,That you may witness bear of me.
And when they all had felt and seenWhere once the nails and spear had been,Hosanna they aloud proclaimed,And blessed and praised his holy name,
He then proceeded to make plainHis gospel to the sons of men,The prophecies he did unfold,Yea, things that were in days of old.
And every thing that should transpireTill element should melt with fire,Commanding them for to recordThe sayings of their risen Lord;
That generation should be blessed,And with him in his kingdom rest;But, O! what scenes of sorrow rolledWhen he the future did unfold!
Four generations should not passUntil they'd turn from righteousness,The Nephite nation be destroyed!The Lamanites reject his word,The gospel taken from their midst,The record of their fathers hid,They dwindle long in unbelief,And ages pass without relief,Until the Gentiles from afar,Should smite them in a dreadful war,And take possession of their land,And they should have no power to stand.But as their remnants wander far,In darkness, sorrow and despair,Lo! from the earth their record comesTo gather Israel to their homes.First to the Gentiles 'tis revealed,The prophecy must be fulfilled;That they may know and understandHis gospel, and no more contend.Hear! O ye Gentiles, and repent,To you is this salvation sent;God to the Gentiles lifts his hand,To gather Israel to their land.
Four generations should not passUntil they'd turn from righteousness,The Nephite nation be destroyed!The Lamanites reject his word,The gospel taken from their midst,The record of their fathers hid,They dwindle long in unbelief,And ages pass without relief,Until the Gentiles from afar,Should smite them in a dreadful war,And take possession of their land,And they should have no power to stand.But as their remnants wander far,In darkness, sorrow and despair,Lo! from the earth their record comesTo gather Israel to their homes.First to the Gentiles 'tis revealed,The prophecy must be fulfilled;That they may know and understandHis gospel, and no more contend.Hear! O ye Gentiles, and repent,To you is this salvation sent;God to the Gentiles lifts his hand,To gather Israel to their land.
Four generations should not passUntil they'd turn from righteousness,The Nephite nation be destroyed!The Lamanites reject his word,
The gospel taken from their midst,The record of their fathers hid,They dwindle long in unbelief,And ages pass without relief,
Until the Gentiles from afar,Should smite them in a dreadful war,And take possession of their land,And they should have no power to stand.
But as their remnants wander far,In darkness, sorrow and despair,Lo! from the earth their record comesTo gather Israel to their homes.
First to the Gentiles 'tis revealed,The prophecy must be fulfilled;That they may know and understandHis gospel, and no more contend.
Hear! O ye Gentiles, and repent,To you is this salvation sent;God to the Gentiles lifts his hand,To gather Israel to their land.
O who that has search'd in the records of old,And read the last scenes of distress;Four and twenty were left who with Mormon beheld,While their nation lay mouldering to dust.The Nephites destroyed, the Lamanites dwelt,For ages in sorrow unknown;Generations have pass'd, till the Gentiles at last,Have divided their lands as their own.O, who that has seen o'er the wide spreading plainThe Lamanites wander forlorn,While the Gentiles in pride and oppression divideThe land they could once call their own.And who that believes does not long for the hourWhen sin and oppression shall cease,And truth, like the rainbow, display through the shower,That bright written promise of peace.O, thou afflicted and sorrowful race,The days of thy sorrow shall end;The Lord has pronounced you a remnant of His,Descended from Abram his friend.Thy stones with fair colors most glorious shall stand,And sapphires all shining around;Thy windows of agates in this glorious land,And thy gates with carbuncles abound.With songs of rejoicing to Zion return,And sorrow and sighing shall flee;The powers of heaven among you come down.And Christ in the centre will be.And then all the watchmen shall see eye to eye,When the Lord shall bring Zion again;The wolf and the kid down together shall lie,And the lion shall dwell with the lamb.The earth shall be filled with knowledge of God,And nothing shall hurt or destroy,And these are the tidings we have to proclaim,—Glad tidings abounding with joy.
O who that has search'd in the records of old,And read the last scenes of distress;Four and twenty were left who with Mormon beheld,While their nation lay mouldering to dust.The Nephites destroyed, the Lamanites dwelt,For ages in sorrow unknown;Generations have pass'd, till the Gentiles at last,Have divided their lands as their own.O, who that has seen o'er the wide spreading plainThe Lamanites wander forlorn,While the Gentiles in pride and oppression divideThe land they could once call their own.And who that believes does not long for the hourWhen sin and oppression shall cease,And truth, like the rainbow, display through the shower,That bright written promise of peace.O, thou afflicted and sorrowful race,The days of thy sorrow shall end;The Lord has pronounced you a remnant of His,Descended from Abram his friend.Thy stones with fair colors most glorious shall stand,And sapphires all shining around;Thy windows of agates in this glorious land,And thy gates with carbuncles abound.With songs of rejoicing to Zion return,And sorrow and sighing shall flee;The powers of heaven among you come down.And Christ in the centre will be.And then all the watchmen shall see eye to eye,When the Lord shall bring Zion again;The wolf and the kid down together shall lie,And the lion shall dwell with the lamb.The earth shall be filled with knowledge of God,And nothing shall hurt or destroy,And these are the tidings we have to proclaim,—Glad tidings abounding with joy.
O who that has search'd in the records of old,And read the last scenes of distress;Four and twenty were left who with Mormon beheld,While their nation lay mouldering to dust.
The Nephites destroyed, the Lamanites dwelt,For ages in sorrow unknown;Generations have pass'd, till the Gentiles at last,Have divided their lands as their own.
O, who that has seen o'er the wide spreading plainThe Lamanites wander forlorn,While the Gentiles in pride and oppression divideThe land they could once call their own.
And who that believes does not long for the hourWhen sin and oppression shall cease,And truth, like the rainbow, display through the shower,That bright written promise of peace.
O, thou afflicted and sorrowful race,The days of thy sorrow shall end;The Lord has pronounced you a remnant of His,Descended from Abram his friend.
Thy stones with fair colors most glorious shall stand,And sapphires all shining around;Thy windows of agates in this glorious land,And thy gates with carbuncles abound.
With songs of rejoicing to Zion return,And sorrow and sighing shall flee;The powers of heaven among you come down.And Christ in the centre will be.
And then all the watchmen shall see eye to eye,When the Lord shall bring Zion again;The wolf and the kid down together shall lie,And the lion shall dwell with the lamb.
The earth shall be filled with knowledge of God,And nothing shall hurt or destroy,And these are the tidings we have to proclaim,—Glad tidings abounding with joy.
Hark! listen to the gentle breeze,O'er hill or valley, plain or grove,It whispers in the ears of man,The voice of freedom, peace and love.The flowers that bloom o'er all the land,In harmony and order stand,Nor hatred, pride or envy know,In freedom, peace and love they grow.The birds their numerous notes resound,In songs of praise the earth around,Their voices and their tongues employ,In songs of freedom, love and joy.And then behold the crystal stream,With multitudes of fishes teem;In silent joy they live and move,In freedom, union, peace and love.
Hark! listen to the gentle breeze,O'er hill or valley, plain or grove,It whispers in the ears of man,The voice of freedom, peace and love.The flowers that bloom o'er all the land,In harmony and order stand,Nor hatred, pride or envy know,In freedom, peace and love they grow.The birds their numerous notes resound,In songs of praise the earth around,Their voices and their tongues employ,In songs of freedom, love and joy.And then behold the crystal stream,With multitudes of fishes teem;In silent joy they live and move,In freedom, union, peace and love.
Hark! listen to the gentle breeze,O'er hill or valley, plain or grove,It whispers in the ears of man,The voice of freedom, peace and love.
The flowers that bloom o'er all the land,In harmony and order stand,Nor hatred, pride or envy know,In freedom, peace and love they grow.
The birds their numerous notes resound,In songs of praise the earth around,Their voices and their tongues employ,In songs of freedom, love and joy.
And then behold the crystal stream,With multitudes of fishes teem;In silent joy they live and move,In freedom, union, peace and love.
The mountains high, the rivers clear,Where heaven sheds her dews and tears,In silence, or with gentle roar,The God of love and peace adore.The earth, and air, and sea, and sky,The holy spirit from on high,And angels who above do reign,Cry peace on earth, good will to men.But most of all a Saviour's love,Was manifested from above,He died and rose to life again,Our freedom, love and peace to gain.But man,—vile man, alone seems lost,With hatred, pride and envy tossed,His hardened soul does seldom move,In freedom, union, peace or love.For him, let all creation mourn;O'er him did Enoch's bosom yearn,Till he was promised from above,A day of freedom, peace and love.
The mountains high, the rivers clear,Where heaven sheds her dews and tears,In silence, or with gentle roar,The God of love and peace adore.The earth, and air, and sea, and sky,The holy spirit from on high,And angels who above do reign,Cry peace on earth, good will to men.But most of all a Saviour's love,Was manifested from above,He died and rose to life again,Our freedom, love and peace to gain.But man,—vile man, alone seems lost,With hatred, pride and envy tossed,His hardened soul does seldom move,In freedom, union, peace or love.For him, let all creation mourn;O'er him did Enoch's bosom yearn,Till he was promised from above,A day of freedom, peace and love.
The mountains high, the rivers clear,Where heaven sheds her dews and tears,In silence, or with gentle roar,The God of love and peace adore.
The earth, and air, and sea, and sky,The holy spirit from on high,And angels who above do reign,Cry peace on earth, good will to men.
But most of all a Saviour's love,Was manifested from above,He died and rose to life again,Our freedom, love and peace to gain.
But man,—vile man, alone seems lost,With hatred, pride and envy tossed,His hardened soul does seldom move,In freedom, union, peace or love.
For him, let all creation mourn;O'er him did Enoch's bosom yearn,Till he was promised from above,A day of freedom, peace and love.
"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth."
This earth shall be a blessed place,To saints celestial given;Where Christ again shall show his face,With the redeemed of Adam's race,In clouds descend from heaven.Yes, when he comes on earth again,The wicked burn as stubble;Thus all his enemies are slain,And o'er the nations he shall reign,And end the scenes of trouble.The trump of war is heard no more,But all their strife is ended;While Jesus shall all things restoreTo order, as they were before,And peace o'er all extended.Sing, O ye heavens! let earth rejoice,While saints shall flow to Zion,And rear the temple of his choice,And in its courts unite their voice,In praise to Judah's Lion.Hosanna to the reign of peace!The day so long expected;When earth shall find a full release,The groanings of creation cease,The righteous well protected.Come, sound his praise in joyful strains.Who dwell beneath his banner;He'll bind old Satan fast in chains,And wide o'er earth's extended plains,The nations shoutHosanna.
This earth shall be a blessed place,To saints celestial given;Where Christ again shall show his face,With the redeemed of Adam's race,In clouds descend from heaven.Yes, when he comes on earth again,The wicked burn as stubble;Thus all his enemies are slain,And o'er the nations he shall reign,And end the scenes of trouble.The trump of war is heard no more,But all their strife is ended;While Jesus shall all things restoreTo order, as they were before,And peace o'er all extended.Sing, O ye heavens! let earth rejoice,While saints shall flow to Zion,And rear the temple of his choice,And in its courts unite their voice,In praise to Judah's Lion.Hosanna to the reign of peace!The day so long expected;When earth shall find a full release,The groanings of creation cease,The righteous well protected.Come, sound his praise in joyful strains.Who dwell beneath his banner;He'll bind old Satan fast in chains,And wide o'er earth's extended plains,The nations shoutHosanna.
This earth shall be a blessed place,To saints celestial given;Where Christ again shall show his face,With the redeemed of Adam's race,In clouds descend from heaven.
Yes, when he comes on earth again,The wicked burn as stubble;Thus all his enemies are slain,And o'er the nations he shall reign,And end the scenes of trouble.
The trump of war is heard no more,But all their strife is ended;While Jesus shall all things restoreTo order, as they were before,And peace o'er all extended.
Sing, O ye heavens! let earth rejoice,While saints shall flow to Zion,And rear the temple of his choice,And in its courts unite their voice,In praise to Judah's Lion.
Hosanna to the reign of peace!The day so long expected;When earth shall find a full release,The groanings of creation cease,The righteous well protected.
Come, sound his praise in joyful strains.Who dwell beneath his banner;He'll bind old Satan fast in chains,And wide o'er earth's extended plains,The nations shoutHosanna.
Lo, far in the realms of Missouri,When peace crowns the meek and the lowly,The loud storms of envy and follyMay roll all their billows in vain.The wicked, with evil intention,May rouse all their powers of invention,With lying, intrigue and contention,Their end will be sorrow and pain.The saints, crowned with songs of rejoicing,To Zion shall flow from all nations,Escaping the great conflagration,They find out the regions of peace.Though scattered and driven asunder.As exiles and pilgrims to wander,A scene on which angels do ponder,Yet Jesus will bring their release.When empires of Babel shall tumble,Their fabrics in ashes shall crumble,The Lord will provide for the humbleA city of refuge and peace.There, there the Lord will deliverThe soul of each faithful believer,And save them forever and ever,And sorrow and sighing shall cease.The saints for those blessings aspire,And wait with exceeding desire,Till earth shall be cleansed by fire,And they their inheritance gain.Hosanna, such blessings inspireA song from the heavenly choir,They sing of the coming Messiah,From heaven in glory to reign.
Lo, far in the realms of Missouri,When peace crowns the meek and the lowly,The loud storms of envy and follyMay roll all their billows in vain.The wicked, with evil intention,May rouse all their powers of invention,With lying, intrigue and contention,Their end will be sorrow and pain.The saints, crowned with songs of rejoicing,To Zion shall flow from all nations,Escaping the great conflagration,They find out the regions of peace.Though scattered and driven asunder.As exiles and pilgrims to wander,A scene on which angels do ponder,Yet Jesus will bring their release.When empires of Babel shall tumble,Their fabrics in ashes shall crumble,The Lord will provide for the humbleA city of refuge and peace.There, there the Lord will deliverThe soul of each faithful believer,And save them forever and ever,And sorrow and sighing shall cease.The saints for those blessings aspire,And wait with exceeding desire,Till earth shall be cleansed by fire,And they their inheritance gain.Hosanna, such blessings inspireA song from the heavenly choir,They sing of the coming Messiah,From heaven in glory to reign.
Lo, far in the realms of Missouri,When peace crowns the meek and the lowly,The loud storms of envy and follyMay roll all their billows in vain.
The wicked, with evil intention,May rouse all their powers of invention,With lying, intrigue and contention,Their end will be sorrow and pain.
The saints, crowned with songs of rejoicing,To Zion shall flow from all nations,Escaping the great conflagration,They find out the regions of peace.
Though scattered and driven asunder.As exiles and pilgrims to wander,A scene on which angels do ponder,Yet Jesus will bring their release.
When empires of Babel shall tumble,Their fabrics in ashes shall crumble,The Lord will provide for the humbleA city of refuge and peace.
There, there the Lord will deliverThe soul of each faithful believer,And save them forever and ever,And sorrow and sighing shall cease.
The saints for those blessings aspire,And wait with exceeding desire,Till earth shall be cleansed by fire,And they their inheritance gain.
Hosanna, such blessings inspireA song from the heavenly choir,They sing of the coming Messiah,From heaven in glory to reign.
Another day has fled and gone,The sun declines in western skies,The birds retired, have ceased their song,Let ours in pure devotion rise.The moon her splendid course resumes,She sheds her light o'er land and sea,The gentle dews in soft perfumesFall sweetly o'er each herb and tree.While here in meditation sweet,Those happy hours I call to mind,When with the saints I oft have met,Our hearts in pure devotion joined.Those friends afar I call to mind,When shall we meet again below;Their hearts affectionate and kind,How did they soothe my grief and woe.As flow'rets in their brightest bloom,Are withered by the chilling blast,So man's fond hopes are like a dream,His days how fleet, how swift they pass.But cease this melancholy moan,Nor sigh for those who will not come,For Israel surely will returnTo Zion and Jerusalem.There is a source of pure delightFor ever shall support my heart:For Zion's land's revealed to sight,Where saints will meet no more to part.
Another day has fled and gone,The sun declines in western skies,The birds retired, have ceased their song,Let ours in pure devotion rise.The moon her splendid course resumes,She sheds her light o'er land and sea,The gentle dews in soft perfumesFall sweetly o'er each herb and tree.While here in meditation sweet,Those happy hours I call to mind,When with the saints I oft have met,Our hearts in pure devotion joined.Those friends afar I call to mind,When shall we meet again below;Their hearts affectionate and kind,How did they soothe my grief and woe.As flow'rets in their brightest bloom,Are withered by the chilling blast,So man's fond hopes are like a dream,His days how fleet, how swift they pass.But cease this melancholy moan,Nor sigh for those who will not come,For Israel surely will returnTo Zion and Jerusalem.There is a source of pure delightFor ever shall support my heart:For Zion's land's revealed to sight,Where saints will meet no more to part.
Another day has fled and gone,The sun declines in western skies,The birds retired, have ceased their song,Let ours in pure devotion rise.
The moon her splendid course resumes,She sheds her light o'er land and sea,The gentle dews in soft perfumesFall sweetly o'er each herb and tree.
While here in meditation sweet,Those happy hours I call to mind,When with the saints I oft have met,Our hearts in pure devotion joined.
Those friends afar I call to mind,When shall we meet again below;Their hearts affectionate and kind,How did they soothe my grief and woe.
As flow'rets in their brightest bloom,Are withered by the chilling blast,So man's fond hopes are like a dream,His days how fleet, how swift they pass.
But cease this melancholy moan,Nor sigh for those who will not come,For Israel surely will returnTo Zion and Jerusalem.
There is a source of pure delightFor ever shall support my heart:For Zion's land's revealed to sight,Where saints will meet no more to part.
How fleet the precious moments roll,How soon the harvest will be o'er:The watchmen seek their final rest,And lift a warning voice no more.Another year has roll'd awayAnd took its thousands to the tomb;Its sorrows and its joys are fled,To hasten on the general doom.And eighteen hundred thirty five.Is rolling swiftly on the wing,And soon the leaves and tendrils thrive;A token of returning spring.The fulness of the gospel shinesWith glorious and resplendent rays;The earth and heav'ns show forth their signs.As tokens of the latter days.
How fleet the precious moments roll,How soon the harvest will be o'er:The watchmen seek their final rest,And lift a warning voice no more.Another year has roll'd awayAnd took its thousands to the tomb;Its sorrows and its joys are fled,To hasten on the general doom.And eighteen hundred thirty five.Is rolling swiftly on the wing,And soon the leaves and tendrils thrive;A token of returning spring.The fulness of the gospel shinesWith glorious and resplendent rays;The earth and heav'ns show forth their signs.As tokens of the latter days.
How fleet the precious moments roll,How soon the harvest will be o'er:The watchmen seek their final rest,And lift a warning voice no more.
Another year has roll'd awayAnd took its thousands to the tomb;Its sorrows and its joys are fled,To hasten on the general doom.
And eighteen hundred thirty five.Is rolling swiftly on the wing,And soon the leaves and tendrils thrive;A token of returning spring.
The fulness of the gospel shinesWith glorious and resplendent rays;The earth and heav'ns show forth their signs.As tokens of the latter days.
Ye chosen twelve, to you are given,The keys of this last ministry—To every nation under heaven,From land to land, from sea to sea.First to the Gentiles sound the newsThroughout Columbia's happy land,And then before it reach the Jews,Prepare on Europe's shores to stand.Let Europe's towns and cities hearThe gospel tidings angels bring;The Gentile nations far and near,Prepare their hearts His praise to sing.India's and Afric's sultry plainsMust hear the tidings as they roll—Where darkness, death and sorrow reign,And tyranny has long controlled.Listen, ye islands of the sea—For every isle shall hear the sound:Nations and tongues before unknown,Though long since lost, shall soon be found.And then again shall Asia hear,Where angels first the news proclaimed:Eternity shall record bear,And earth repeat the loud, Amen.The nations catch the pleasing sound,And Jew and Gentile swell the strain,Hosanna o'er the earth resound,Messiah then will come to reign.
Ye chosen twelve, to you are given,The keys of this last ministry—To every nation under heaven,From land to land, from sea to sea.First to the Gentiles sound the newsThroughout Columbia's happy land,And then before it reach the Jews,Prepare on Europe's shores to stand.Let Europe's towns and cities hearThe gospel tidings angels bring;The Gentile nations far and near,Prepare their hearts His praise to sing.India's and Afric's sultry plainsMust hear the tidings as they roll—Where darkness, death and sorrow reign,And tyranny has long controlled.Listen, ye islands of the sea—For every isle shall hear the sound:Nations and tongues before unknown,Though long since lost, shall soon be found.And then again shall Asia hear,Where angels first the news proclaimed:Eternity shall record bear,And earth repeat the loud, Amen.The nations catch the pleasing sound,And Jew and Gentile swell the strain,Hosanna o'er the earth resound,Messiah then will come to reign.
Ye chosen twelve, to you are given,The keys of this last ministry—To every nation under heaven,From land to land, from sea to sea.
First to the Gentiles sound the newsThroughout Columbia's happy land,And then before it reach the Jews,Prepare on Europe's shores to stand.
Let Europe's towns and cities hearThe gospel tidings angels bring;The Gentile nations far and near,Prepare their hearts His praise to sing.
India's and Afric's sultry plainsMust hear the tidings as they roll—Where darkness, death and sorrow reign,And tyranny has long controlled.
Listen, ye islands of the sea—For every isle shall hear the sound:Nations and tongues before unknown,Though long since lost, shall soon be found.
And then again shall Asia hear,Where angels first the news proclaimed:Eternity shall record bear,And earth repeat the loud, Amen.
The nations catch the pleasing sound,And Jew and Gentile swell the strain,Hosanna o'er the earth resound,Messiah then will come to reign.
Farewell, my kind and faithful friend—The partner of my early youth,While from my home my steps I bend,To warn mankind and teach the truth.How oft in silent evening mild,I to some lonely place retire—Thy love and kindness call to mind,Then lift a voice in humble prayer.O Lord, extend thine arms of love,Around the partner of my heart,For thou hast spoken from above,And called me with my all to part.Preserve her soul in perfect peace,From sickness, sorrow and distress,Until our pilgrimage shall cease.And we on Zion's hill shall rest.How gladly would my soul retireWith thee, to spend a peaceful life,In some sequestered humble vale,Far from the scenes of noise and strife.Where men should grieve our souls no more,Nor rage of sin disturb our peace;Our troubles, toils and sufferings o'er,Their lies and persecutions cease.
Farewell, my kind and faithful friend—The partner of my early youth,While from my home my steps I bend,To warn mankind and teach the truth.How oft in silent evening mild,I to some lonely place retire—Thy love and kindness call to mind,Then lift a voice in humble prayer.O Lord, extend thine arms of love,Around the partner of my heart,For thou hast spoken from above,And called me with my all to part.Preserve her soul in perfect peace,From sickness, sorrow and distress,Until our pilgrimage shall cease.And we on Zion's hill shall rest.How gladly would my soul retireWith thee, to spend a peaceful life,In some sequestered humble vale,Far from the scenes of noise and strife.Where men should grieve our souls no more,Nor rage of sin disturb our peace;Our troubles, toils and sufferings o'er,Their lies and persecutions cease.
Farewell, my kind and faithful friend—The partner of my early youth,While from my home my steps I bend,To warn mankind and teach the truth.
How oft in silent evening mild,I to some lonely place retire—Thy love and kindness call to mind,Then lift a voice in humble prayer.
O Lord, extend thine arms of love,Around the partner of my heart,For thou hast spoken from above,And called me with my all to part.
Preserve her soul in perfect peace,From sickness, sorrow and distress,Until our pilgrimage shall cease.And we on Zion's hill shall rest.
How gladly would my soul retireWith thee, to spend a peaceful life,In some sequestered humble vale,Far from the scenes of noise and strife.
Where men should grieve our souls no more,Nor rage of sin disturb our peace;Our troubles, toils and sufferings o'er,Their lies and persecutions cease.
But lo! the harvest wide extends—The fields are white o'er all the plain—The tares in bundles must be bound,While we with care secure the grain.Shall we repine when Jesus calls,Or count the sacrifice too great,To spend our lives as pilgrims here,Or loose them for the gospel's sake?When Jesus Christ has done the same,Without a place to lay his head,A pilgrim on the earth he came,Until for us his blood was shed.Shall we behold the nations doomedTo sword and famine, blood and fire,Yet not the least exertion make,But from the scene in peace retire?No; while his love for me extends,The pattern makes my duty plain—I'll sound to earth's remotest ends,His gospel to the sons of men!Farewell, my kind and faithful friend,Until we meet on earth again—For soon our pilgrimage shall end,And the Messiah come to reign.
But lo! the harvest wide extends—The fields are white o'er all the plain—The tares in bundles must be bound,While we with care secure the grain.Shall we repine when Jesus calls,Or count the sacrifice too great,To spend our lives as pilgrims here,Or loose them for the gospel's sake?When Jesus Christ has done the same,Without a place to lay his head,A pilgrim on the earth he came,Until for us his blood was shed.Shall we behold the nations doomedTo sword and famine, blood and fire,Yet not the least exertion make,But from the scene in peace retire?No; while his love for me extends,The pattern makes my duty plain—I'll sound to earth's remotest ends,His gospel to the sons of men!Farewell, my kind and faithful friend,Until we meet on earth again—For soon our pilgrimage shall end,And the Messiah come to reign.
But lo! the harvest wide extends—The fields are white o'er all the plain—The tares in bundles must be bound,While we with care secure the grain.
Shall we repine when Jesus calls,Or count the sacrifice too great,To spend our lives as pilgrims here,Or loose them for the gospel's sake?
When Jesus Christ has done the same,Without a place to lay his head,A pilgrim on the earth he came,Until for us his blood was shed.
Shall we behold the nations doomedTo sword and famine, blood and fire,Yet not the least exertion make,But from the scene in peace retire?
No; while his love for me extends,The pattern makes my duty plain—I'll sound to earth's remotest ends,His gospel to the sons of men!
Farewell, my kind and faithful friend,Until we meet on earth again—For soon our pilgrimage shall end,And the Messiah come to reign.
IN PRISON, APRIL, 1839.
O freedom, must thy spirit now withdrawFrom earth, returning to its native heaven,There to dwell, till armed with sevenfold vengeanceIt comes again to earth with king Messiah,And all his marshalled hosts in glory bright,To tread the winepress of Almighty God,And none escape?—ye powers of heaven forbid;—Let freedom linger still on shores of time,And in the breasts of thine afflicted saints,Let freedom find a peaceful retirement,—A place of rest;—till o'er the troubled earth—Mercy, justice, and eternal truth,While journeying hand in hand to exalt the humbleAnd debase the proud, shall find some nationPoor, oppressed, afflicted and despised,Cast out and trodden under foot of tyrantsProud, the hiss, the bye-word, and the scorn of knaves:—And there let freedom's spirit wide prevail.And grow, and flourish—'mid the humble poor,Exhalted and enriched by virtue,Knowledge, temperance, and love—till o'er the earthMessiah comes to reign;—the proud consumed.No more oppress the poor.—Let Freedom's eagle then, (forthcoming, likeThe Dove from Noah's Ark) on lofty pinions soar,And spread its wide domain from end to end,O'er all the vast expanse of this wide earth,—While freedom's Temple rears its lofty spiresAmid the skies, and on its bosom rests!A cloud by day and flaming fire by night!!But stay, my spirit, though thou feign would'st soarOn high; mid scenes of glory, peace and joy;From bondage free, and bid thy jail farewell:—Stop,—wait awhile,—let patience have her perfect work,Return again to suffering scenes through whichThe way to glory lies; and speak of thingsAround thee,—thou art in prison still.But spring has now returned, the wintry blastsHave ceased to howl through my prison crevices.The soft and gentle breezes of the southAre whistling gayly past; and incense sweetOn zephyr's wing, with fragrance fills the air,Wafted from blooming flowrets of the spring;While round my lonely dungeon oft is heardMelodious strains as if the birds of springIn anthems sweet conspired to pity andConsole the drooping spirits there confined.All things around me show that days, and weeks,And months have fled, although to me not mark'dBy sabbaths—and but faintly mark'd by dimAnd sombre rays of light alternate midThe gloom of overhanging night which stillPervades my drear and solitary cell.Where now those helpless ones I left to mourn?Have they perished? no.—what then!—has someElijah call'd and found them in the lastExtreme, and multiplied their meal and oil?Yes, verily,—the Lord has fill'd the heartsOf his poor saints with everlasting love,Which, in proportion to their poverty,Increased with each increasing want, till allReduced unto the widow's mite and thenLike her, their living they put in, and thusO'erflowed the treasury of the Lord with moreAbundant stores than all the wealth of kings.And thus supported, fed, and clothed; and movedFrom scenes of sorrow to a land of peace—They live!—and living still they do rejoiceIn tribulation deep:Well knowing their redemption draweth nigh!
O freedom, must thy spirit now withdrawFrom earth, returning to its native heaven,There to dwell, till armed with sevenfold vengeanceIt comes again to earth with king Messiah,And all his marshalled hosts in glory bright,To tread the winepress of Almighty God,And none escape?—ye powers of heaven forbid;—Let freedom linger still on shores of time,And in the breasts of thine afflicted saints,Let freedom find a peaceful retirement,—A place of rest;—till o'er the troubled earth—Mercy, justice, and eternal truth,While journeying hand in hand to exalt the humbleAnd debase the proud, shall find some nationPoor, oppressed, afflicted and despised,Cast out and trodden under foot of tyrantsProud, the hiss, the bye-word, and the scorn of knaves:—And there let freedom's spirit wide prevail.And grow, and flourish—'mid the humble poor,Exhalted and enriched by virtue,Knowledge, temperance, and love—till o'er the earthMessiah comes to reign;—the proud consumed.No more oppress the poor.—Let Freedom's eagle then, (forthcoming, likeThe Dove from Noah's Ark) on lofty pinions soar,And spread its wide domain from end to end,O'er all the vast expanse of this wide earth,—While freedom's Temple rears its lofty spiresAmid the skies, and on its bosom rests!A cloud by day and flaming fire by night!!But stay, my spirit, though thou feign would'st soarOn high; mid scenes of glory, peace and joy;From bondage free, and bid thy jail farewell:—Stop,—wait awhile,—let patience have her perfect work,Return again to suffering scenes through whichThe way to glory lies; and speak of thingsAround thee,—thou art in prison still.But spring has now returned, the wintry blastsHave ceased to howl through my prison crevices.The soft and gentle breezes of the southAre whistling gayly past; and incense sweetOn zephyr's wing, with fragrance fills the air,Wafted from blooming flowrets of the spring;While round my lonely dungeon oft is heardMelodious strains as if the birds of springIn anthems sweet conspired to pity andConsole the drooping spirits there confined.All things around me show that days, and weeks,And months have fled, although to me not mark'dBy sabbaths—and but faintly mark'd by dimAnd sombre rays of light alternate midThe gloom of overhanging night which stillPervades my drear and solitary cell.Where now those helpless ones I left to mourn?Have they perished? no.—what then!—has someElijah call'd and found them in the lastExtreme, and multiplied their meal and oil?Yes, verily,—the Lord has fill'd the heartsOf his poor saints with everlasting love,Which, in proportion to their poverty,Increased with each increasing want, till allReduced unto the widow's mite and thenLike her, their living they put in, and thusO'erflowed the treasury of the Lord with moreAbundant stores than all the wealth of kings.And thus supported, fed, and clothed; and movedFrom scenes of sorrow to a land of peace—They live!—and living still they do rejoiceIn tribulation deep:Well knowing their redemption draweth nigh!
O freedom, must thy spirit now withdrawFrom earth, returning to its native heaven,There to dwell, till armed with sevenfold vengeanceIt comes again to earth with king Messiah,And all his marshalled hosts in glory bright,To tread the winepress of Almighty God,And none escape?—ye powers of heaven forbid;—Let freedom linger still on shores of time,And in the breasts of thine afflicted saints,Let freedom find a peaceful retirement,—A place of rest;—till o'er the troubled earth—Mercy, justice, and eternal truth,While journeying hand in hand to exalt the humbleAnd debase the proud, shall find some nationPoor, oppressed, afflicted and despised,Cast out and trodden under foot of tyrantsProud, the hiss, the bye-word, and the scorn of knaves:—And there let freedom's spirit wide prevail.And grow, and flourish—'mid the humble poor,Exhalted and enriched by virtue,Knowledge, temperance, and love—till o'er the earthMessiah comes to reign;—the proud consumed.No more oppress the poor.—Let Freedom's eagle then, (forthcoming, likeThe Dove from Noah's Ark) on lofty pinions soar,And spread its wide domain from end to end,O'er all the vast expanse of this wide earth,—While freedom's Temple rears its lofty spiresAmid the skies, and on its bosom rests!A cloud by day and flaming fire by night!!But stay, my spirit, though thou feign would'st soarOn high; mid scenes of glory, peace and joy;From bondage free, and bid thy jail farewell:—Stop,—wait awhile,—let patience have her perfect work,Return again to suffering scenes through whichThe way to glory lies; and speak of thingsAround thee,—thou art in prison still.But spring has now returned, the wintry blastsHave ceased to howl through my prison crevices.The soft and gentle breezes of the southAre whistling gayly past; and incense sweetOn zephyr's wing, with fragrance fills the air,Wafted from blooming flowrets of the spring;While round my lonely dungeon oft is heardMelodious strains as if the birds of springIn anthems sweet conspired to pity andConsole the drooping spirits there confined.All things around me show that days, and weeks,And months have fled, although to me not mark'dBy sabbaths—and but faintly mark'd by dimAnd sombre rays of light alternate midThe gloom of overhanging night which stillPervades my drear and solitary cell.Where now those helpless ones I left to mourn?Have they perished? no.—what then!—has someElijah call'd and found them in the lastExtreme, and multiplied their meal and oil?Yes, verily,—the Lord has fill'd the heartsOf his poor saints with everlasting love,Which, in proportion to their poverty,Increased with each increasing want, till allReduced unto the widow's mite and thenLike her, their living they put in, and thusO'erflowed the treasury of the Lord with moreAbundant stores than all the wealth of kings.And thus supported, fed, and clothed; and movedFrom scenes of sorrow to a land of peace—They live!—and living still they do rejoiceIn tribulation deep:Well knowing their redemption draweth nigh!
WRITTEN IN PRISON.
Boast not, O proud Niagara! althoughThou mayest withstand the ravages of time,While countless millions swept away with allTheir mighty works, are lost in following years:Yet there is a voice to speak, long and loud!'Tis Michael's trump, whose mighty blast shall rendThy rocks, and bow thy lofty mountains in the dust.Before whose awful presence thy watersBlush in retiring modesty; and inRespectful silence thou shalt stand, and listening,Wonder and admire, while thunders rollMajestic round the sky;—the lightnings play,—The mountains sink,—the valleys rise,—till earth,Restored to its original—receivesIts final rest, and groans and sighs no more.Till then weep on, and let thy voice ascend,In solemn music to the skies;—it isA funeral dirge,—thou weepest o'er the miseriesOf a fallen world—in anguish deep.
Boast not, O proud Niagara! althoughThou mayest withstand the ravages of time,While countless millions swept away with allTheir mighty works, are lost in following years:Yet there is a voice to speak, long and loud!'Tis Michael's trump, whose mighty blast shall rendThy rocks, and bow thy lofty mountains in the dust.Before whose awful presence thy watersBlush in retiring modesty; and inRespectful silence thou shalt stand, and listening,Wonder and admire, while thunders rollMajestic round the sky;—the lightnings play,—The mountains sink,—the valleys rise,—till earth,Restored to its original—receivesIts final rest, and groans and sighs no more.Till then weep on, and let thy voice ascend,In solemn music to the skies;—it isA funeral dirge,—thou weepest o'er the miseriesOf a fallen world—in anguish deep.
Boast not, O proud Niagara! althoughThou mayest withstand the ravages of time,While countless millions swept away with allTheir mighty works, are lost in following years:Yet there is a voice to speak, long and loud!'Tis Michael's trump, whose mighty blast shall rendThy rocks, and bow thy lofty mountains in the dust.Before whose awful presence thy watersBlush in retiring modesty; and inRespectful silence thou shalt stand, and listening,Wonder and admire, while thunders rollMajestic round the sky;—the lightnings play,—The mountains sink,—the valleys rise,—till earth,Restored to its original—receivesIts final rest, and groans and sighs no more.Till then weep on, and let thy voice ascend,In solemn music to the skies;—it isA funeral dirge,—thou weepest o'er the miseriesOf a fallen world—in anguish deep.
WRITTEN IN PRISON, APRIL, 1839.
See nature bursting into life and bloom:Joyous, it rises from its wintry tomb,Decked in pure robes of purple, white, or green:Perfumed with incense sweet—O lovely scene!Melodious sounds, with music soft and sweet,Thrill through the air—thy joyous presence greet.Behold, O Mary! and remember too,There is a spring to bloom for me and you;—We, like the spring, shall burst the sullen gloom.All clothed in white—eternally to bloom.We too, will join the choir his praise to sing,And hail the welcome of Eternal Spring.
See nature bursting into life and bloom:Joyous, it rises from its wintry tomb,Decked in pure robes of purple, white, or green:Perfumed with incense sweet—O lovely scene!Melodious sounds, with music soft and sweet,Thrill through the air—thy joyous presence greet.Behold, O Mary! and remember too,There is a spring to bloom for me and you;—We, like the spring, shall burst the sullen gloom.All clothed in white—eternally to bloom.We too, will join the choir his praise to sing,And hail the welcome of Eternal Spring.
See nature bursting into life and bloom:Joyous, it rises from its wintry tomb,Decked in pure robes of purple, white, or green:Perfumed with incense sweet—O lovely scene!Melodious sounds, with music soft and sweet,Thrill through the air—thy joyous presence greet.Behold, O Mary! and remember too,There is a spring to bloom for me and you;—We, like the spring, shall burst the sullen gloom.All clothed in white—eternally to bloom.We too, will join the choir his praise to sing,And hail the welcome of Eternal Spring.
WRITTEN IN PRISON.
Lift up your heads, ye scattered saints,Redemption draweth nigh;Our Saviour hears the orphans' plaints';The widow's mournful cry.The blood of those who have been slainFor vengeance cries aloud:Nor shall its cries ascend in vain,For vengeance on the proud.The signs in heaven and earth appear;And blood, and smoke, and fire;Men's hearts are failing them for fear;Redemption's drawing nigher.Earthquakes are bellowing 'neath the ground,And tempests through the air;—The trumpet's blast with fearful sound,Proclaims the alarm of war.The saints are scattered to and fro,Through all the earth abroad;The gospel trump again to blow,And then behold their God.Rejoice, ye servants of our God,Who to the end endure;Rejoice, for great is your reward,And your defence is sure.Although this body should be slainBy cruel, wicked hands;I'll praise my God in higher strains,And on Mount Zion stand.Glory to God, ye saints rejoice,And sigh and groan no more;But listen to the spirit's voice;Redemption's at the door.
Lift up your heads, ye scattered saints,Redemption draweth nigh;Our Saviour hears the orphans' plaints';The widow's mournful cry.The blood of those who have been slainFor vengeance cries aloud:Nor shall its cries ascend in vain,For vengeance on the proud.The signs in heaven and earth appear;And blood, and smoke, and fire;Men's hearts are failing them for fear;Redemption's drawing nigher.Earthquakes are bellowing 'neath the ground,And tempests through the air;—The trumpet's blast with fearful sound,Proclaims the alarm of war.The saints are scattered to and fro,Through all the earth abroad;The gospel trump again to blow,And then behold their God.Rejoice, ye servants of our God,Who to the end endure;Rejoice, for great is your reward,And your defence is sure.Although this body should be slainBy cruel, wicked hands;I'll praise my God in higher strains,And on Mount Zion stand.Glory to God, ye saints rejoice,And sigh and groan no more;But listen to the spirit's voice;Redemption's at the door.
Lift up your heads, ye scattered saints,Redemption draweth nigh;Our Saviour hears the orphans' plaints';The widow's mournful cry.
The blood of those who have been slainFor vengeance cries aloud:Nor shall its cries ascend in vain,For vengeance on the proud.
The signs in heaven and earth appear;And blood, and smoke, and fire;Men's hearts are failing them for fear;Redemption's drawing nigher.
Earthquakes are bellowing 'neath the ground,And tempests through the air;—The trumpet's blast with fearful sound,Proclaims the alarm of war.
The saints are scattered to and fro,Through all the earth abroad;The gospel trump again to blow,And then behold their God.
Rejoice, ye servants of our God,Who to the end endure;Rejoice, for great is your reward,And your defence is sure.
Although this body should be slainBy cruel, wicked hands;I'll praise my God in higher strains,And on Mount Zion stand.
Glory to God, ye saints rejoice,And sigh and groan no more;But listen to the spirit's voice;Redemption's at the door.
IN PRISON, APRIL 12, 1839.
This is the day that gave me birthIn eighteen hundred seven;From worlds unseen I came to earth,Far from my native heaven.Thirty and two long years have pass'd,To grief and sorrow given;And now to crown my woes at lastI am confined in prison.'Tis not for crimes that I have doneThat to my foes I'm given,But to the world I am unknown,And my reward's in heaven.What troubled scenes may yet ensueTo strew my path with sorrow,Is not for me to know, 'tis true,I boast not of to-morrow.One thing is sure, this life at bestIs like a troubled ocean;I often wish myself at restFrom all its dire commotion.But let its troubled bosom heave,Its surges beat around me;To truth, eternal truth, I cleave,Its floods can never drown me.
This is the day that gave me birthIn eighteen hundred seven;From worlds unseen I came to earth,Far from my native heaven.Thirty and two long years have pass'd,To grief and sorrow given;And now to crown my woes at lastI am confined in prison.'Tis not for crimes that I have doneThat to my foes I'm given,But to the world I am unknown,And my reward's in heaven.What troubled scenes may yet ensueTo strew my path with sorrow,Is not for me to know, 'tis true,I boast not of to-morrow.One thing is sure, this life at bestIs like a troubled ocean;I often wish myself at restFrom all its dire commotion.But let its troubled bosom heave,Its surges beat around me;To truth, eternal truth, I cleave,Its floods can never drown me.
This is the day that gave me birthIn eighteen hundred seven;From worlds unseen I came to earth,Far from my native heaven.
Thirty and two long years have pass'd,To grief and sorrow given;And now to crown my woes at lastI am confined in prison.
'Tis not for crimes that I have doneThat to my foes I'm given,But to the world I am unknown,And my reward's in heaven.
What troubled scenes may yet ensueTo strew my path with sorrow,Is not for me to know, 'tis true,I boast not of to-morrow.
One thing is sure, this life at bestIs like a troubled ocean;I often wish myself at restFrom all its dire commotion.
But let its troubled bosom heave,Its surges beat around me;To truth, eternal truth, I cleave,Its floods can never drown me.
A LAMENTATION.
WRITTEN IN PRISON.
Torn from our friends and captive led,'Mid armed legions bound in chains,That peace for which our fathers bledIs gone, and dire confusion reigns.Zion, our peaceful happy home,Where oft we joined in praise and prayer,A desolation has become,And grief and sorrow linger there.Her virgins sigh, her widows mourn,Her children for their parents weep;In chains her priests and prophets groan,While some in deaths cold arms do sleep.Exultingly her savage foesNow ravage, steal and plunder, whereA virgin's, tears, a widow's woes,Became their song of triumph there.How long, O Lord, wilt thou forsakeThe saints who tremble at thy word?Awake, O arm of God, awake—And teach the nations thou art God.Descend with all thy holy throng,The year of thy redeem'd bring near;Haste—haste the day of vengeance on—Bid Zion's children dry their tears.Deliver, Lord, thy captive saints,And comfort those who long have mourn'd;Bid Zion cease her dire complaints,And all creation cease to groan.
Torn from our friends and captive led,'Mid armed legions bound in chains,That peace for which our fathers bledIs gone, and dire confusion reigns.Zion, our peaceful happy home,Where oft we joined in praise and prayer,A desolation has become,And grief and sorrow linger there.Her virgins sigh, her widows mourn,Her children for their parents weep;In chains her priests and prophets groan,While some in deaths cold arms do sleep.Exultingly her savage foesNow ravage, steal and plunder, whereA virgin's, tears, a widow's woes,Became their song of triumph there.How long, O Lord, wilt thou forsakeThe saints who tremble at thy word?Awake, O arm of God, awake—And teach the nations thou art God.Descend with all thy holy throng,The year of thy redeem'd bring near;Haste—haste the day of vengeance on—Bid Zion's children dry their tears.Deliver, Lord, thy captive saints,And comfort those who long have mourn'd;Bid Zion cease her dire complaints,And all creation cease to groan.
Torn from our friends and captive led,'Mid armed legions bound in chains,That peace for which our fathers bledIs gone, and dire confusion reigns.
Zion, our peaceful happy home,Where oft we joined in praise and prayer,A desolation has become,And grief and sorrow linger there.
Her virgins sigh, her widows mourn,Her children for their parents weep;In chains her priests and prophets groan,While some in deaths cold arms do sleep.
Exultingly her savage foesNow ravage, steal and plunder, whereA virgin's, tears, a widow's woes,Became their song of triumph there.
How long, O Lord, wilt thou forsakeThe saints who tremble at thy word?Awake, O arm of God, awake—And teach the nations thou art God.
Descend with all thy holy throng,The year of thy redeem'd bring near;Haste—haste the day of vengeance on—Bid Zion's children dry their tears.
Deliver, Lord, thy captive saints,And comfort those who long have mourn'd;Bid Zion cease her dire complaints,And all creation cease to groan.
AN EXTRACT.
WRITTEN IN PRISON.
Here nature too, her grandest works display;Sublimest themes inspire the Poet's lays,As if creative power in skill progressed,As onward still it moved towards the west.Till here it finished with a master handIts mightiest works—to excel all other lands.In awful majesty our mountains rise,O'erlook the clouds, and tower amid the skies,Their lofty summits bid defiance bold,They fear no rival heights in older worlds.'Tis true Himmaleh, (Asia's highest peak,)Has dared with Chimborazo to compete;But then our rocky summits—scarce exploredSome nameless rival heights may yet afford;Whose towering pride shall seize the starry crown,And cast Himmaleh, humbled, to the ground.Our proud volcanoes, belching forth their flames,With smoke and lava, overwhelm the plains;Their lightnings play—their awful thunders roar,Convulse the earth and sea from shore to shore.Among them Cotopaxi's awful voiceWould silence Etna,—drown Vesuvius' noise;While Europe wondering listens to admireThe power superior of Columbia's fires.Our lakes, like inland seas expanding wide,Have not a parallel on earth beside.Ontario, Erie, Huron, Michigan,And vast Superior form the mighty plan,Their waves like oceans wash the verdant shore,In western wilds too boundless to explore.Can Europe, Africa, or Asia boastA lake compared with these in all their coasts?Our rivers too, pursue their lengthened way,From far off mountains to the distant sea,Through fertile vales,—the flowery meads along,And chiming still their gently murmuring song;Receiving grateful tribute as they run.From thousand streams all mingling into one.Lo! wild Missouri's waters have their sourceIn unknown regions to the west and north,From limpid lakes or from the mountain snows,From thousand springing streams its current flows;Mid vast prairies, winds its lengthened way,Two thousand miles where savage hunters stray,Then quits its wildly wanderings to receiveThe busy hum of commerce on its wave.Two thousand more its rapid current flows,Receiving still large rivers as it goes,Young Empires flourish all along its tide,And joyous cities rise on every side.What is the boasted Nile compared with this?Its magnitude is lost in nothingness,Asia and Europe's longest, proudest streams'Longside Missouri's tide how short they seem!Our cataracts too, in grandeur far outvie,The noblest waterfalls beyond the sea.See grand Niagara's stream majestic glide,The venturous steamer floating on its tide:Its limpid waters draining half a world,Into the yawning gulf are headlong hurled,And for a moment lose the light of day,—Dash on the rocks—then rise in misty spray.The playful sunbeams trembling kiss its tears,And from this loved embrace the bow appears;Commingling colors of the liveliest hueFrom purple red, to yellow, pink, and blue.These mingling join the sportive, airy dance,Their beauty half concealed from vulgar glance;Now veil'd in clouds—now bursting to the viewIn blushing modesty, the dance renew;While music rolls in awful, solemn sound,Heard in the distance, many leagues around.Or turn to Tequendama's awful steep,See wild Bogota's waters boldy leap,Down from the lofty Andes' heights of snow,To flowery plains, where spring's soft breezes blow:'Mid scenes of majesty unrival'd stand,And view the wonders of Columbia's land.Our climate stretching far through every zone,Presents variety elsewhere unknown.Lo! in the North eternal winter reigns,And binds the ocean in his icy chains;Locked in the stupor of his cold embraceAll nature seems to sleep:—yet here we traceSome signs of life,—of joy, and happiness,Some icy cottage of domestic bliss,Where love sits smiling, (from the blast secure)In native modesty,—with soul as pure,And chaste, and lovely, as their virgin snows,While to the chase her lord, or lover goes;And if per chance he takes a Bear, or Seal,Amid the dangers of the icy field,Returns in triumph to his humble cotWhere lost in love his troubles are forgot.Our northern states present a clime severe,Where wintry blasts are howling half the year;But spring arising from its wintry tomb,Renew'd in freshness sheds a sweet perfume;Decked in pure robes of purple, white or green,Adorned with flowrets bright:—O, lovely scene!Melodious sounds of music, soft and sweetThrill through the air,—it's joyous welcome greet.There autumn's richest blessings crown the year,And there the rose on beauty's cheek appears.Our southern climes for mildness may compare,With Italy, and France, whose gentle airBecame the subject of the Poet's dream,Or breathed in music soft, the lover's theme.There rapturous passions kindle in the soulTheir warmest fires,—impatient of control:There love's soft graces beam in woman's eyeAnd beauty's cheek is tinged with paler dye.There balmy sweets perfume the breath of morn,And shady groves the noonday walks adorn;While gentle zephyrs kiss the blushing flowers,And healthful breezes cool the evening hours.Our soil, with Eden's garden would compare,Nay more,—forbidden fruit was growing there;But here the trees of life and knowledge stand reveal'd,And free to all,—no poison is conceal'dIn wisdom's fruit,—Our Eves may satisfyTheir souls with knowledge here; nor fear to die.
Here nature too, her grandest works display;Sublimest themes inspire the Poet's lays,As if creative power in skill progressed,As onward still it moved towards the west.Till here it finished with a master handIts mightiest works—to excel all other lands.In awful majesty our mountains rise,O'erlook the clouds, and tower amid the skies,Their lofty summits bid defiance bold,They fear no rival heights in older worlds.'Tis true Himmaleh, (Asia's highest peak,)Has dared with Chimborazo to compete;But then our rocky summits—scarce exploredSome nameless rival heights may yet afford;Whose towering pride shall seize the starry crown,And cast Himmaleh, humbled, to the ground.Our proud volcanoes, belching forth their flames,With smoke and lava, overwhelm the plains;Their lightnings play—their awful thunders roar,Convulse the earth and sea from shore to shore.Among them Cotopaxi's awful voiceWould silence Etna,—drown Vesuvius' noise;While Europe wondering listens to admireThe power superior of Columbia's fires.Our lakes, like inland seas expanding wide,Have not a parallel on earth beside.Ontario, Erie, Huron, Michigan,And vast Superior form the mighty plan,Their waves like oceans wash the verdant shore,In western wilds too boundless to explore.Can Europe, Africa, or Asia boastA lake compared with these in all their coasts?Our rivers too, pursue their lengthened way,From far off mountains to the distant sea,Through fertile vales,—the flowery meads along,And chiming still their gently murmuring song;Receiving grateful tribute as they run.From thousand streams all mingling into one.Lo! wild Missouri's waters have their sourceIn unknown regions to the west and north,From limpid lakes or from the mountain snows,From thousand springing streams its current flows;Mid vast prairies, winds its lengthened way,Two thousand miles where savage hunters stray,Then quits its wildly wanderings to receiveThe busy hum of commerce on its wave.Two thousand more its rapid current flows,Receiving still large rivers as it goes,Young Empires flourish all along its tide,And joyous cities rise on every side.What is the boasted Nile compared with this?Its magnitude is lost in nothingness,Asia and Europe's longest, proudest streams'Longside Missouri's tide how short they seem!Our cataracts too, in grandeur far outvie,The noblest waterfalls beyond the sea.See grand Niagara's stream majestic glide,The venturous steamer floating on its tide:Its limpid waters draining half a world,Into the yawning gulf are headlong hurled,And for a moment lose the light of day,—Dash on the rocks—then rise in misty spray.The playful sunbeams trembling kiss its tears,And from this loved embrace the bow appears;Commingling colors of the liveliest hueFrom purple red, to yellow, pink, and blue.These mingling join the sportive, airy dance,Their beauty half concealed from vulgar glance;Now veil'd in clouds—now bursting to the viewIn blushing modesty, the dance renew;While music rolls in awful, solemn sound,Heard in the distance, many leagues around.Or turn to Tequendama's awful steep,See wild Bogota's waters boldy leap,Down from the lofty Andes' heights of snow,To flowery plains, where spring's soft breezes blow:'Mid scenes of majesty unrival'd stand,And view the wonders of Columbia's land.Our climate stretching far through every zone,Presents variety elsewhere unknown.Lo! in the North eternal winter reigns,And binds the ocean in his icy chains;Locked in the stupor of his cold embraceAll nature seems to sleep:—yet here we traceSome signs of life,—of joy, and happiness,Some icy cottage of domestic bliss,Where love sits smiling, (from the blast secure)In native modesty,—with soul as pure,And chaste, and lovely, as their virgin snows,While to the chase her lord, or lover goes;And if per chance he takes a Bear, or Seal,Amid the dangers of the icy field,Returns in triumph to his humble cotWhere lost in love his troubles are forgot.Our northern states present a clime severe,Where wintry blasts are howling half the year;But spring arising from its wintry tomb,Renew'd in freshness sheds a sweet perfume;Decked in pure robes of purple, white or green,Adorned with flowrets bright:—O, lovely scene!Melodious sounds of music, soft and sweetThrill through the air,—it's joyous welcome greet.There autumn's richest blessings crown the year,And there the rose on beauty's cheek appears.Our southern climes for mildness may compare,With Italy, and France, whose gentle airBecame the subject of the Poet's dream,Or breathed in music soft, the lover's theme.There rapturous passions kindle in the soulTheir warmest fires,—impatient of control:There love's soft graces beam in woman's eyeAnd beauty's cheek is tinged with paler dye.There balmy sweets perfume the breath of morn,And shady groves the noonday walks adorn;While gentle zephyrs kiss the blushing flowers,And healthful breezes cool the evening hours.Our soil, with Eden's garden would compare,Nay more,—forbidden fruit was growing there;But here the trees of life and knowledge stand reveal'd,And free to all,—no poison is conceal'dIn wisdom's fruit,—Our Eves may satisfyTheir souls with knowledge here; nor fear to die.
Here nature too, her grandest works display;Sublimest themes inspire the Poet's lays,As if creative power in skill progressed,As onward still it moved towards the west.
Till here it finished with a master handIts mightiest works—to excel all other lands.In awful majesty our mountains rise,O'erlook the clouds, and tower amid the skies,Their lofty summits bid defiance bold,They fear no rival heights in older worlds.
'Tis true Himmaleh, (Asia's highest peak,)Has dared with Chimborazo to compete;But then our rocky summits—scarce exploredSome nameless rival heights may yet afford;Whose towering pride shall seize the starry crown,And cast Himmaleh, humbled, to the ground.
Our proud volcanoes, belching forth their flames,With smoke and lava, overwhelm the plains;Their lightnings play—their awful thunders roar,Convulse the earth and sea from shore to shore.Among them Cotopaxi's awful voiceWould silence Etna,—drown Vesuvius' noise;While Europe wondering listens to admireThe power superior of Columbia's fires.
Our lakes, like inland seas expanding wide,Have not a parallel on earth beside.Ontario, Erie, Huron, Michigan,And vast Superior form the mighty plan,Their waves like oceans wash the verdant shore,In western wilds too boundless to explore.
Can Europe, Africa, or Asia boastA lake compared with these in all their coasts?Our rivers too, pursue their lengthened way,From far off mountains to the distant sea,Through fertile vales,—the flowery meads along,And chiming still their gently murmuring song;Receiving grateful tribute as they run.From thousand streams all mingling into one.
Lo! wild Missouri's waters have their sourceIn unknown regions to the west and north,From limpid lakes or from the mountain snows,From thousand springing streams its current flows;Mid vast prairies, winds its lengthened way,Two thousand miles where savage hunters stray,Then quits its wildly wanderings to receiveThe busy hum of commerce on its wave.
Two thousand more its rapid current flows,Receiving still large rivers as it goes,Young Empires flourish all along its tide,And joyous cities rise on every side.What is the boasted Nile compared with this?Its magnitude is lost in nothingness,
Asia and Europe's longest, proudest streams'Longside Missouri's tide how short they seem!Our cataracts too, in grandeur far outvie,The noblest waterfalls beyond the sea.See grand Niagara's stream majestic glide,The venturous steamer floating on its tide:Its limpid waters draining half a world,Into the yawning gulf are headlong hurled,And for a moment lose the light of day,—Dash on the rocks—then rise in misty spray.
The playful sunbeams trembling kiss its tears,And from this loved embrace the bow appears;Commingling colors of the liveliest hueFrom purple red, to yellow, pink, and blue.These mingling join the sportive, airy dance,Their beauty half concealed from vulgar glance;Now veil'd in clouds—now bursting to the viewIn blushing modesty, the dance renew;While music rolls in awful, solemn sound,Heard in the distance, many leagues around.
Or turn to Tequendama's awful steep,See wild Bogota's waters boldy leap,Down from the lofty Andes' heights of snow,To flowery plains, where spring's soft breezes blow:'Mid scenes of majesty unrival'd stand,And view the wonders of Columbia's land.Our climate stretching far through every zone,Presents variety elsewhere unknown.Lo! in the North eternal winter reigns,And binds the ocean in his icy chains;Locked in the stupor of his cold embraceAll nature seems to sleep:—yet here we traceSome signs of life,—of joy, and happiness,Some icy cottage of domestic bliss,Where love sits smiling, (from the blast secure)In native modesty,—with soul as pure,And chaste, and lovely, as their virgin snows,While to the chase her lord, or lover goes;And if per chance he takes a Bear, or Seal,Amid the dangers of the icy field,Returns in triumph to his humble cotWhere lost in love his troubles are forgot.Our northern states present a clime severe,Where wintry blasts are howling half the year;But spring arising from its wintry tomb,Renew'd in freshness sheds a sweet perfume;Decked in pure robes of purple, white or green,Adorned with flowrets bright:—O, lovely scene!Melodious sounds of music, soft and sweetThrill through the air,—it's joyous welcome greet.There autumn's richest blessings crown the year,And there the rose on beauty's cheek appears.
Our southern climes for mildness may compare,With Italy, and France, whose gentle airBecame the subject of the Poet's dream,Or breathed in music soft, the lover's theme.There rapturous passions kindle in the soulTheir warmest fires,—impatient of control:There love's soft graces beam in woman's eyeAnd beauty's cheek is tinged with paler dye.There balmy sweets perfume the breath of morn,And shady groves the noonday walks adorn;While gentle zephyrs kiss the blushing flowers,And healthful breezes cool the evening hours.Our soil, with Eden's garden would compare,Nay more,—forbidden fruit was growing there;But here the trees of life and knowledge stand reveal'd,And free to all,—no poison is conceal'dIn wisdom's fruit,—Our Eves may satisfyTheir souls with knowledge here; nor fear to die.
WRITTEN IN PRISON.
Missouri, a country how sad and how low,How fallen from glory, from freedom, from pride,O, would that oblivion its mantle would throwO'er thee, and the depth of thy wickedness hide.Thou should'st never rejoice—think not of the dayWhen Columbia for freedom first struggled so bold,When thousands assembled in battle array,The star-spangled banner of freedom unfurled;Think not of the patriots that bled in her cause,Who met all undaunted the foemen's dark brow,They gave to their country beneficent lawsOf right and protection but where are they now?Disturb not the rest of the free and the brave,Enshrined deep in honor they sweetly repose,They swore that the banner of freedom should waveO'er their dear native land regardless of foes,But thou, O Missouri, hast trampled on allThat free men would fight for or patriots feelO thou queen of the west how great is thy fall—Thy wounds deep and deadly no balsam can heal.Let us fly, let us fly to the land where the lightOf Liberty's stars still illumine each spot,Where the cottager's smile for ever is bright,And the chains of a tyrant encircle us not.In the fair Illinois the eagle's bold wingIs stretched o'er a people determined and free,And the shouts of her sons in melody ringO'er her bower covered groves and fine prairie.
Missouri, a country how sad and how low,How fallen from glory, from freedom, from pride,O, would that oblivion its mantle would throwO'er thee, and the depth of thy wickedness hide.Thou should'st never rejoice—think not of the dayWhen Columbia for freedom first struggled so bold,When thousands assembled in battle array,The star-spangled banner of freedom unfurled;Think not of the patriots that bled in her cause,Who met all undaunted the foemen's dark brow,They gave to their country beneficent lawsOf right and protection but where are they now?Disturb not the rest of the free and the brave,Enshrined deep in honor they sweetly repose,They swore that the banner of freedom should waveO'er their dear native land regardless of foes,But thou, O Missouri, hast trampled on allThat free men would fight for or patriots feelO thou queen of the west how great is thy fall—Thy wounds deep and deadly no balsam can heal.Let us fly, let us fly to the land where the lightOf Liberty's stars still illumine each spot,Where the cottager's smile for ever is bright,And the chains of a tyrant encircle us not.In the fair Illinois the eagle's bold wingIs stretched o'er a people determined and free,And the shouts of her sons in melody ringO'er her bower covered groves and fine prairie.
Missouri, a country how sad and how low,How fallen from glory, from freedom, from pride,O, would that oblivion its mantle would throwO'er thee, and the depth of thy wickedness hide.
Thou should'st never rejoice—think not of the dayWhen Columbia for freedom first struggled so bold,When thousands assembled in battle array,The star-spangled banner of freedom unfurled;
Think not of the patriots that bled in her cause,Who met all undaunted the foemen's dark brow,They gave to their country beneficent lawsOf right and protection but where are they now?
Disturb not the rest of the free and the brave,Enshrined deep in honor they sweetly repose,They swore that the banner of freedom should waveO'er their dear native land regardless of foes,
But thou, O Missouri, hast trampled on allThat free men would fight for or patriots feelO thou queen of the west how great is thy fall—Thy wounds deep and deadly no balsam can heal.
Let us fly, let us fly to the land where the lightOf Liberty's stars still illumine each spot,Where the cottager's smile for ever is bright,And the chains of a tyrant encircle us not.
In the fair Illinois the eagle's bold wingIs stretched o'er a people determined and free,And the shouts of her sons in melody ringO'er her bower covered groves and fine prairie.
This morning in silence I ponder and mourn,O'er the scenes that have passed no more to return,How vast are the labors, the troubles and fears,Of eight hundred millions who've toiled through the year.How many ten thousands were slain by their foes,While widows and orphans have mourn'd o'er their woes,While pestilence, famine and earthquakes appear,And signs in the heavens throughout the past year.How many been murder'd and plunder'd and robb'd,How many oppressed and driven by mobs,How oft have the heaven's bedewed with their tearsThe earth o'er the scenes they beheld the past year.But the day-star has dawn'd o'er the land of the bless'd,The first beams of morning, the morning or rest;When cleans'd from pollution the earth shall appearAs the garden of Eden, and peace crown the year.Then welcome the new year, I hail with delight,The season approaching with time's rapid flight;While each fleeting moment brings near and more near,The day, long expected, the great thousand years.I praise and adore the eternal I Am;Hosanna, hosanna to God and the Lamb,Who order the seasons that glide o'er the spheres,And crown with such blessings, each happy new year.
This morning in silence I ponder and mourn,O'er the scenes that have passed no more to return,How vast are the labors, the troubles and fears,Of eight hundred millions who've toiled through the year.How many ten thousands were slain by their foes,While widows and orphans have mourn'd o'er their woes,While pestilence, famine and earthquakes appear,And signs in the heavens throughout the past year.How many been murder'd and plunder'd and robb'd,How many oppressed and driven by mobs,How oft have the heaven's bedewed with their tearsThe earth o'er the scenes they beheld the past year.But the day-star has dawn'd o'er the land of the bless'd,The first beams of morning, the morning or rest;When cleans'd from pollution the earth shall appearAs the garden of Eden, and peace crown the year.Then welcome the new year, I hail with delight,The season approaching with time's rapid flight;While each fleeting moment brings near and more near,The day, long expected, the great thousand years.I praise and adore the eternal I Am;Hosanna, hosanna to God and the Lamb,Who order the seasons that glide o'er the spheres,And crown with such blessings, each happy new year.
This morning in silence I ponder and mourn,O'er the scenes that have passed no more to return,How vast are the labors, the troubles and fears,Of eight hundred millions who've toiled through the year.
How many ten thousands were slain by their foes,While widows and orphans have mourn'd o'er their woes,While pestilence, famine and earthquakes appear,And signs in the heavens throughout the past year.
How many been murder'd and plunder'd and robb'd,How many oppressed and driven by mobs,How oft have the heaven's bedewed with their tearsThe earth o'er the scenes they beheld the past year.
But the day-star has dawn'd o'er the land of the bless'd,The first beams of morning, the morning or rest;When cleans'd from pollution the earth shall appearAs the garden of Eden, and peace crown the year.
Then welcome the new year, I hail with delight,The season approaching with time's rapid flight;While each fleeting moment brings near and more near,The day, long expected, the great thousand years.
I praise and adore the eternal I Am;Hosanna, hosanna to God and the Lamb,Who order the seasons that glide o'er the spheres,And crown with such blessings, each happy new year.
ON TAKING LEAVE OF NEW-YORK.
Adieu to the city, where long I have wandered,To tell them of judgments and warn them to flee;How often in sorrow, their woes I have pondered:Perhaps in affliction, they'll think upon me.With a tear of compassion, in silence retiring,The last ray of hope for your safety expiring;A feeling of pity this bosom inspiring—Sing this lamentation and think upon me.How often at evening your halls have resoundedWith th' pure testimony of Jesus, so free;While the meek were rejoicing, the proud were confounded,The poor had the gospel;—they'll think upon me.When Empires shall tremble at Israel returning,And earth shall be cleans'd by the Spirit of burning;When proud men shall perish, and Priests with their learning,—Sing this lamentation, and think upon me.When the Union is severed, and liberty's blessingsWithheld from the sons of Columbia, once free;When bloodshed and war, and famine d'stress them,Remember the warning! and think upon me.When this mighty city shall crumble to ruin,And sink as a millstone, the merchants undoing;The ransom'd, the highway of Zion pursuing,—Sing this lamentation, and think upon me.
Adieu to the city, where long I have wandered,To tell them of judgments and warn them to flee;How often in sorrow, their woes I have pondered:Perhaps in affliction, they'll think upon me.With a tear of compassion, in silence retiring,The last ray of hope for your safety expiring;A feeling of pity this bosom inspiring—Sing this lamentation and think upon me.How often at evening your halls have resoundedWith th' pure testimony of Jesus, so free;While the meek were rejoicing, the proud were confounded,The poor had the gospel;—they'll think upon me.When Empires shall tremble at Israel returning,And earth shall be cleans'd by the Spirit of burning;When proud men shall perish, and Priests with their learning,—Sing this lamentation, and think upon me.When the Union is severed, and liberty's blessingsWithheld from the sons of Columbia, once free;When bloodshed and war, and famine d'stress them,Remember the warning! and think upon me.When this mighty city shall crumble to ruin,And sink as a millstone, the merchants undoing;The ransom'd, the highway of Zion pursuing,—Sing this lamentation, and think upon me.
Adieu to the city, where long I have wandered,To tell them of judgments and warn them to flee;How often in sorrow, their woes I have pondered:Perhaps in affliction, they'll think upon me.
With a tear of compassion, in silence retiring,The last ray of hope for your safety expiring;A feeling of pity this bosom inspiring—Sing this lamentation and think upon me.
How often at evening your halls have resoundedWith th' pure testimony of Jesus, so free;While the meek were rejoicing, the proud were confounded,The poor had the gospel;—they'll think upon me.
When Empires shall tremble at Israel returning,And earth shall be cleans'd by the Spirit of burning;When proud men shall perish, and Priests with their learning,—Sing this lamentation, and think upon me.
When the Union is severed, and liberty's blessingsWithheld from the sons of Columbia, once free;When bloodshed and war, and famine d'stress them,Remember the warning! and think upon me.
When this mighty city shall crumble to ruin,And sink as a millstone, the merchants undoing;The ransom'd, the highway of Zion pursuing,—Sing this lamentation, and think upon me.
IN MEMORY OP HIS DEPARTED WIFE, WHO DIED, MARCH 25, 1837.
The joys of home I once have tasted,All its pleasures called my own;Friendship's purest pleasures graced it,But they're gone,—I'm left alone,Now no more that smile of gladnessWelcomes me at my return;But a lonely, solemn sadness:Oh she's gone,—I'm left alone!Oft when clouds of care and trouble,Like a tempest o'er me roll'd,A look, a word, an act of kindness,Served to calm my troubled soul.When by pain and sickness wasted,Oft she lingered near my bed;Fed me, nursed me as an angel,Washed my feet or bathed my head.When to western wilds I wandered,Rear'd in solitude my cot;Clear'd away the gloomy forest,—She with flowers adorned the spot.When by ruthless mobs was driven,Wounded, bleeding, from my home,Wandering in a land of strangers,Pilgrim like she with me roamed.When in distant climes I wander'd,To bear glad tidings to mankind;She shared my toils and travels gladly,Or would consent to stay behind.Returning from a distant journey,She always met me with a smile;Wash'd my feet and changed my raiment,And bade me rest from all my toil.But now alone I'm left to wander,From land to land, from sea to sea;And none except my only offspringWill scarce inquire what comes of me.And e'n to him I'll seem a stranger,While he is reared by other hands;He'll hardly feel I am his father,When I return from distant lands.What is it then for which I linger,Still in this dark and dreary waste?Where nothing centers my affection,Where others' joys I cannot taste.If I must still consent to tarry,'Twill be to bear another's grief:To save mankind from sin and sorrow,And bring the broken heart relief.To comfort those who mourn in Zion,And bid ten thousand others come;Where the widow, orphan, virgin,And the poor may find a home.
The joys of home I once have tasted,All its pleasures called my own;Friendship's purest pleasures graced it,But they're gone,—I'm left alone,Now no more that smile of gladnessWelcomes me at my return;But a lonely, solemn sadness:Oh she's gone,—I'm left alone!Oft when clouds of care and trouble,Like a tempest o'er me roll'd,A look, a word, an act of kindness,Served to calm my troubled soul.When by pain and sickness wasted,Oft she lingered near my bed;Fed me, nursed me as an angel,Washed my feet or bathed my head.When to western wilds I wandered,Rear'd in solitude my cot;Clear'd away the gloomy forest,—She with flowers adorned the spot.When by ruthless mobs was driven,Wounded, bleeding, from my home,Wandering in a land of strangers,Pilgrim like she with me roamed.When in distant climes I wander'd,To bear glad tidings to mankind;She shared my toils and travels gladly,Or would consent to stay behind.Returning from a distant journey,She always met me with a smile;Wash'd my feet and changed my raiment,And bade me rest from all my toil.But now alone I'm left to wander,From land to land, from sea to sea;And none except my only offspringWill scarce inquire what comes of me.And e'n to him I'll seem a stranger,While he is reared by other hands;He'll hardly feel I am his father,When I return from distant lands.What is it then for which I linger,Still in this dark and dreary waste?Where nothing centers my affection,Where others' joys I cannot taste.If I must still consent to tarry,'Twill be to bear another's grief:To save mankind from sin and sorrow,And bring the broken heart relief.To comfort those who mourn in Zion,And bid ten thousand others come;Where the widow, orphan, virgin,And the poor may find a home.
The joys of home I once have tasted,All its pleasures called my own;Friendship's purest pleasures graced it,But they're gone,—I'm left alone,
Now no more that smile of gladnessWelcomes me at my return;But a lonely, solemn sadness:Oh she's gone,—I'm left alone!
Oft when clouds of care and trouble,Like a tempest o'er me roll'd,A look, a word, an act of kindness,Served to calm my troubled soul.
When by pain and sickness wasted,Oft she lingered near my bed;Fed me, nursed me as an angel,Washed my feet or bathed my head.
When to western wilds I wandered,Rear'd in solitude my cot;Clear'd away the gloomy forest,—She with flowers adorned the spot.
When by ruthless mobs was driven,Wounded, bleeding, from my home,Wandering in a land of strangers,Pilgrim like she with me roamed.
When in distant climes I wander'd,To bear glad tidings to mankind;She shared my toils and travels gladly,Or would consent to stay behind.
Returning from a distant journey,She always met me with a smile;Wash'd my feet and changed my raiment,And bade me rest from all my toil.
But now alone I'm left to wander,From land to land, from sea to sea;And none except my only offspringWill scarce inquire what comes of me.
And e'n to him I'll seem a stranger,While he is reared by other hands;He'll hardly feel I am his father,When I return from distant lands.
What is it then for which I linger,Still in this dark and dreary waste?Where nothing centers my affection,Where others' joys I cannot taste.
If I must still consent to tarry,'Twill be to bear another's grief:To save mankind from sin and sorrow,And bring the broken heart relief.
To comfort those who mourn in Zion,And bid ten thousand others come;Where the widow, orphan, virgin,And the poor may find a home.
ON THE DEATH OF MRS. PRATT.
Creation speaks with awful voice—Hark! 'tis a universal groanRe-echoes through the vast extentOf worlds unnumbered called to mourn.For sickness, sorrow, pain and death,With awful tyranny have reigned;While all eternity has shedHer tears of sorrow o'er the slain.But hark, again; a voice is heard,Resounding through the sullen gloom;A mighty conquerer has appear'd,And rose triumphant from the tomb.No longer let creation mourn;Ye sons of sorrow, dry your tears;Life—life—eternal life is ours,Dismiss your doubts, dispel your fears.The King shall soon in clouds descend,With all the heav'nly hosts above;The dead shall rise and hail their friends,And always dwell with those they love.No tears, no sorrow, death or pain,Shall e'er be known to enter there;But perfect peace, immortal bloom,Shall reign triumphant ev'ry where!
Creation speaks with awful voice—Hark! 'tis a universal groanRe-echoes through the vast extentOf worlds unnumbered called to mourn.For sickness, sorrow, pain and death,With awful tyranny have reigned;While all eternity has shedHer tears of sorrow o'er the slain.But hark, again; a voice is heard,Resounding through the sullen gloom;A mighty conquerer has appear'd,And rose triumphant from the tomb.No longer let creation mourn;Ye sons of sorrow, dry your tears;Life—life—eternal life is ours,Dismiss your doubts, dispel your fears.The King shall soon in clouds descend,With all the heav'nly hosts above;The dead shall rise and hail their friends,And always dwell with those they love.No tears, no sorrow, death or pain,Shall e'er be known to enter there;But perfect peace, immortal bloom,Shall reign triumphant ev'ry where!
Creation speaks with awful voice—Hark! 'tis a universal groanRe-echoes through the vast extentOf worlds unnumbered called to mourn.
For sickness, sorrow, pain and death,With awful tyranny have reigned;While all eternity has shedHer tears of sorrow o'er the slain.
But hark, again; a voice is heard,Resounding through the sullen gloom;A mighty conquerer has appear'd,And rose triumphant from the tomb.
No longer let creation mourn;Ye sons of sorrow, dry your tears;Life—life—eternal life is ours,Dismiss your doubts, dispel your fears.
The King shall soon in clouds descend,With all the heav'nly hosts above;The dead shall rise and hail their friends,And always dwell with those they love.
No tears, no sorrow, death or pain,Shall e'er be known to enter there;But perfect peace, immortal bloom,Shall reign triumphant ev'ry where!
Keep these few lines till time shall end,In memory of your absent friend;Who wanders o'er life's boisterous wave,The meek, the humble poor to save.While I endure I'll spend my breathIn prayer for those who love the truth.In distant lands I'll call to mind,My true and faithful friends so kind.Let these few lines adorn the placeWhere you retire to seek his grace;Then lift your voice in humble prayer,For him whose lines are hanging there.
Keep these few lines till time shall end,In memory of your absent friend;Who wanders o'er life's boisterous wave,The meek, the humble poor to save.While I endure I'll spend my breathIn prayer for those who love the truth.In distant lands I'll call to mind,My true and faithful friends so kind.Let these few lines adorn the placeWhere you retire to seek his grace;Then lift your voice in humble prayer,For him whose lines are hanging there.
Keep these few lines till time shall end,In memory of your absent friend;Who wanders o'er life's boisterous wave,The meek, the humble poor to save.
While I endure I'll spend my breathIn prayer for those who love the truth.In distant lands I'll call to mind,My true and faithful friends so kind.
Let these few lines adorn the placeWhere you retire to seek his grace;Then lift your voice in humble prayer,For him whose lines are hanging there.