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The Anti-slavery Harp_ A Collection of Songs for Anti-slavery Meetings

The Anti-slavery Harp_ A Collection of Songs for Anti-slavery Meetings
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Title: The Anti-slavery Harp_ A Collection of Songs for Anti-slavery Meetings
Release Date: 2018-12-05
Type book: Text
Copyright Status: Public domain in the USA.
Date added: 27 March 2019
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THE
ANTI-SLAVERY HARP:
COLLECTION OF SONGS
FOR
ANTI-SLAVERY MEETINGS.

COMPILED BY
WILLIAM W. BROWN.

THIRD EDITION.

BOSTON:
PUBLISHED BY BELA MARSH,
No. 25 Cornhill.
1851.


Press of Bazin & Chandler,
No. 37 Cornhill.


[3]

SONGS.


FREEDOM’S BANNER.

Air—Freedom’s Banner.
My country, shall thy honored name,
Be as a by-word through the world?
Rouse! for as if to blast thy fame,
This keen reproach is at thee hurled;
The banner that above the waves,
Is floating over three millions slaves.
That flag, my country, I had thought,
From noble sires was given to thee;
By the best blood of patriots bought,
To wave alone above the Free!
Yet now, while to the breeze it waves,
It floats above three millions slaves.
The mighty dead that flag unrolled,[4]
They bathed it in the heaven’s own blue;
They sprinkled stars upon each fold,
And gave it as a trust to you;
And now that glorious banner waves
In shame above three millions slaves.
O, by the virtues of our sires,
And by the soil on which they trod,
And by the trust their name inspires,
And by the hope we have in God,
Arouse, my country, and agree
To set thy captive children free.
Arouse! and let each hill and glen
With prayer to the high heavens ring out,
Till all our land with freeborn men,
May join in one triumphant shout,
That freedom’s banner does not wave
Its folds above a single slave.

O, PITY THE SLAVE MOTHER!

Air—Araby’s Daughter.
I pity the slave mother, careworn and weary,
Who sighs as she presses her babe to her breast;
I lament her sad fate, all so hopeless and dreary,
I lament for her woes, and her wrongs unredressed.
O who can imagine her heart’s deep emotion,
As she thinks of her children about to be sold;
You may picture the bounds of the rock-girdled ocean,
But the grief of that mother can never be known.
The mildew of slavery has blighted each blossom,
That ever has bloomed in her pathway below;
It has froze every fountain that gushed in her bosom,
And chilled her heart’s verdure with pitiless woe;
Her parents, her kindred, all crushed by oppression;
Her husband still doomed in its desert to stay;
No arm to protect from the tyrant’s aggression—
She must weep as she treads on her desolate way.
O, slave mother, hope! see—the nation is shaking![5]
The arm of the Lord is awake to thy wrong!
The slave-holder’s heart now with terror is quaking,
Salvation and Mercy to Heaven belong!
Rejoice, O, rejoice! for the child thou art rearing,
May one day lift up its unmanacled form,
While hope, to thy heart, like the rain-bow so cheering,
Is born, like the rain-bow, ’mid tempest and storm.

THE BLIND SLAVE BOY.

Air—Sweet Afton.
Come back to me, mother! why linger away
From thy poor little blind boy, the long weary day!
I mark every footstep, I list to each tone,
And wonder my mother should leave me alone!
There are voices of sorrow and voices of glee,
But there’s no one to joy or to sorrow with me;
For each hath of pleasure and trouble his share,
And none for the poor little blind boy will care.
My mother, come back to me! close to thy breast
Once more let thy poor little blind one be pressed;
Once more let me feel thy warm breath on my cheek,
And hear thee in accents of tenderness speak!
O mother! I’ve no one to love me—no heart
Can bear like thine own in my sorrows a part;
No hand is so gentle, no voice is so kind!
O! none like a mother can cherish the blind!
Poor blind one! no mother thy wailing can hear,
No mother can hasten to banish thy fear;
For the slave-owner drives her o’er mountain and wild,
And for one paltry dollar hath sold thee, poor child!
Ah! who can in language of mortals reveal
The anguish that none but a mother can feel,
When man in his vile lust of mammon hath trod
On her child, who is stricken and smitten of God!
Blind, helpless, forsaken, with strangers alone,[6]
She hears in her anguish his piteous moan,
As he eagerly listens—but listens in vain,
To catch the loved tones of his mother again!
The curse of the broken in spirit shall fall
On the wretch who hath mingled this wormwood and gall,
And his gain like a mildew shall blight and destroy,
Who hath torn from his mother the little blind boy!

YE SONS OF FREEMEN!

Air—Marseilles Hymn.
Ye sons of freemen, wake to sadness,
Hark! hark! what myriads bid you rise;
Three millions of our race in madness
Break out in wails, in bitter cries,
Break out in wails, in bitter cries;
Must men whose hearts now bleed with anguish,
Yes, trembling slaves in freedom’s land,
Endure the lash, nor raise a hand?
Must nature ’neath the whip-cord languish?
Have pity on the slave,
Take courage from God’s word;
Pray on, pray on, all hearts resolved—these captives shall be free.
The fearful storm—it threatens lowering,
Which God in mercy long delays;
Slaves yet may see their masters cowering,
While whole plantations smoke and blaze!
While whole plantations smoke and blaze;
And we may now prevent the ruin,
Ere lawless force with guilty stride
Shall scatter vengeance far and wide—
With untold crimes their hands imbruing.
Have pity on the slave;
Take courage from God’s word;
Pray on, pray on, all hearts resolved—these captives shall be free.
With luxury and wealth surrounded,[7]
The southern masters proudly dare,
With thirst of gold and power unbounded,
To mete and vend God’s light and air!
To mete and vend God’s light and air;
Like beasts of burden, slaves are loaded,
Till life’s poor toilsome day is o’er;
While they in vain for right implore;
And shall they longer still be goaded?
Have pity on the slave;
Take courage from God’s word;
Toil on, toil on, all hearts resolved—these captives shall be free.
O Liberty! can man e’er bind thee?
Can overseers quench thy flame?
Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee,
Or threats thy Heaven-born spirit tame?
Or threats thy Heaven-born spirit tame;
Too long the slave has groaned, bewailing
The power these heartless tyrants wield;
Yet free them not by sword or shield,
For with men’s hearts they’re unavailing;
Have pity on the slave;
Take courage from God’s word;
Toil on! toil on! all hearts resolved—these captives shall be free!

FREEDOM’S STAR.

Air—Silver Moon.
As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day,
I turned my fond gaze to the sky;
I beheld all the stars as so sweetly they lay,
And but one fixed my heart or my eye.
Chorus.
Shine on, northern star, thou’rt beautiful and bright
To the slave on his journey afar;
For he speeds from his foes in the darkness of night,
Guided on by thy light, freedom’s star.
On thee he depends when he threads the dark woods[8]
Ere the bloodhounds have hunted him back;
Thou leadest him on over mountains and floods,
With thy beams shining full on his track.
Shine on, &c.
Unwelcome to him is the bright orb of day,
As it glides o’er the earth and the sea;
He seeks then to hide like a wild beast of prey,
But with hope rests his heart upon thee.
Shine on, &c.
May never a cloud overshadow thy face,
While the slave flies before his pursuer;
Gleam steadily on to the end of his race,
Till his body and soul are secure.
Shine on, &c.

THE LIBERTY BALL.

Air—Rosin the Bow.
Come all ye true friends of the nation,
Attend to humanity’s call;
Come aid the poor slave’s liberation,
And roll on the liberty ball—
And roll on the liberty ball—
Come aid the poor slave’s liberation,
And roll on the liberty ball.
The liberty hosts are advancing—
For freedom to all they declare;
The down-trodden millions are sighing—
Come break up our gloom of despair.
Come break up our gloom of despair, &c.
Ye Democrats, come to the rescue,
And aid on the liberty cause,
And millions will rise up and bless you,
With heart-cheering songs of applause,
With heart-cheering songs, &c.
Ye Whigs, forsake slavery’s minions,[9]
And boldly step into our ranks;
We care not for party opinions,
But invite all the friends of the banks—
And invite all the friends of the banks, &c.
And when we have formed the blest union
We’ll firmly march on, one and all—
We’ll sing when we meet in communion,
And roll on the liberty ball,
And roll on the liberty ball, &c.

THE NORTH STAR.

Air—Oh! Susannah.
Lo! the Northern Star is beaming
With a new and glorious light,
And its cheering radiance streaming
Through the clouds of misty night!
Freemen! in your great Endeavor,
’Tis a signal hung on high,
And will guide us on forever,
Like a banner in the sky!
Oh! Star of Freedom,
’Tis the star for me;
’Twill lead me off to Canada,
There I will be free.
Growing brighter in all ages,
Cheering Freedom on its way,
Shedding o’er Time’s clouded pages
Glimmers of the coming Day—
Ever telling Man the glory
And the freedom of its birth,
Waiting to record the story
Of the Freedom of the Fourth!
Oh! Star of Freedom,
’Tis the star for me,
’Twill lead me off to Canada,
There I will be free.
The mariner, ’mid the surging[10]
Of the stormy waves and dark,
Hails the Northern Star emerging
From the clouds above his bark!
’Tis a trust that faileth never,
And a light that never dies—
’Tis the beacon-star forever
Beaming in the arctic skies!
Oh! Star of Freedom,
’Tis the star for me,
’Twill lead me off to Canada,
There I will be free.
’Tis the star that Freedom claimeth
As her emblem pure and bright,
And we watch it as it flameth
“In the dark and troubled night:”
While we march to battle glorious,
With our weapons, Truth and Love,
Freedom, as she proves victorious,
Hails the Banner Star above!
Oh! Star of Freedom, &c.

OVER THE MOUNTAIN.

Over the mountain and over the moor,
Hungry and weary I wander forlorn;
My father is dead and my mother is poor,
And she grieves for the days that will never return;
Give me some food for my mother in charity,
Give me some food and then I will be gone.
Pity, kind gentlemen, friends of humanity,
Cold blows the wind and the night’s coming on.
Call me not indolent beggar and bold enough,
Fain would I learn both to knit and to sew;
I’ve two little brothers at home, when they’re old enough,
They will work hard for the gifts you bestow;
Pity, kind gentlemen, friends of humanity,
Cold blows the wind, and the night’s coming on;
Give me some food for my mother in charity,
Give me some food, and then I will be gone.

[11]

JUBILEE SONG.

Air—Away the Bowl.
Our grateful hearts with joy o’erflow,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
We hail the Despot’s overthrow,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
No more he’ll raise the gory lash,
And sink
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