And freedom has been long our own,
With all her soft and gen'rous train,
To gild the lustre of the throne,
And guard the labour of the plain:
Ye heirs of ancient Runnymede!
Your slaves-O! could it be ?-are freed.
Ah! for the tale the slave could speak,
Ah! for the shame of England's sway;
On Afric sands the madden'd shriek
'Neath Indian suns the burning day:
Ye sounds of guilt-ye sights of gore,-
Away! for slavery is no more.
'Mid the drear haunts of force and strife, The ministers-of-peace shall stand, And pour the welling words of life
Around a parch'd and thirsty land; While, spread beneath the tamarind tree, Rise "happy homes and altars free."
Ye isles, that court the tropic rays,
Cluster'd on ocean's sapphire breast;
Ye feath'ry bowers, ye fairy bays,
In more than fable now 66 the blest": Waft on-each-gale your choral strain, Till every land has rent the chain.
O England, empire's home and head,
First in each art of peace and power;
Mighty the billow-crest to tread,
Mighty to rule the battle-hour,
But mightiest to relieve and save!
Rejoice that thou hast freed the slave.
"T is gone, that bright and orbed blaze,
Fast fading from our wistful gaze;
Yon mantling cloud has hid-from-sight
The last faint pulse of quivering light.
In darkness and in weariness,
The traveller on his way must press;
No gleam to watch on tree or tower,
Whiling away the lonesome hour.
Sun of my soul! Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near:
Oh! may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes.
When round thy wondrous works below,
My searching rapturous glance I throw,
Tracing-out Wisdom, Power, and Love,
In earth or sky, in stream or grove;
Or, by the light Thy words disclose, Watch time's full river as it flows, Scanning Thy gracious Providence, Where not too deep for mortal sense;—
When with-dear-friends sweet talk I hold, And all the flowers of life unfold:
Let-not my heart within me burn,
Except in-all I Thee discern.
When the soft dews-of-kindly-sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought how sweet to rest
For-ever on my Saviour's breast.
Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live:
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I dare not die.
If some poor wandering child of Thine
Have spurn'd, to-day, the voice divine;
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin,
Let him no more lie down in sin.
Watch by the sick; enrich the poor
With blessings from Thy boundless store:
Be every mourner's sleep to-night
Like infant's slumbers, pure and light.
Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take;
Till in the ocean of Thy love
We lose ourselves in Heaven above.
I LOVE the sunshine everywhere—
In wood, and field, and glen;
I love it in the busy haunts
Of town-imprison'd men.
I love it, when it streameth in
The humble cottage door,
And casts the chequer'd casement shade
Upon the red brick floor.
I love it, where the children lie,
Deep in the clovery grass,
To watch, among the twining roots,
The gold-green beetle pass.
I love it, on the breezy sea,
To glance on sail and oar,
While the great waves, like molten glass, Come leaping to the shore.
I love it, on the mountain-tops,
Where sleeps the thawless snow,
And half a kingdom, bathed in light,
Lies stretching out below.
O yes, I love the sunshine!
Like kindness, or like mirth,
Upon a human countenance,
Is sunshine on the earth.
Upon the earth upon the sea,
And through the crystal air,
Or piled-up clouds, the gracious sun
Is glorious everywhere.
MORN on the waters! and purple and bright
Bursts on-the-billows the flashing of light;
O'er-the-glad-waves like a child of the sun,
See the tall vessel goes gallantly on;
Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail,
And her pennon streams onward like hope in the gale;
The winds come around her, and murmur and song,
And the surges rejoice as they bear her along.
See! she looks up to the golden-edged clouds,
And the sailor sings gaily aloft in her shrouds :
Onward she glides, amid ripple and spray,
Over the waters, away and away!
Bright as the visions of youth ere they part,
Passing away, like a dream of the heart!
Who, as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,-
Music around her, and sunshine on high,—
Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow,
O! there be hearts that are breaking below ?
Night on the waves! and the moon is on high,
Hung like a gem on the brow of the sky,
Treading its depths in the power of her might,
And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light.
Look to the waters! asleep on their breast,
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