LIGHT OF TRUTH.

Hark! a voice from heaven proclaiming Comfort to the mourning slave: G.o.d has heard him long complaining, And extends his arm to save; Proud Oppression Soon shall find a shameful grave.

See! the light of truth is breaking Full and clear on every hand; And the voice of mercy, speaking, Now is heard through all the land; Firm and fearless, See the friends of Freedom stand!

Lo! the nation is arousing From its slumbers, long and deep; And the church of G.o.d is waking, Never, never more to sleep, While a bondman In his chains remains to weep.

Long, too long, have we been dreaming O'er our country's sin and shame: Let us now, the time redeeming, Press the helpless captive's claim, Till, exulting, He shall cast aside his chain.

THE FLYING SLAVE.

Air--To Greece we give our s.h.i.+ning blades.

The night is dark, and keen the air, And the Slave is flying to be free; His parting word is one short prayer; O G.o.d, but give me Liberty!

Farewell--farewell; Behind I leave the whips and chains, Before me spreads sweet Freedom's plains.

One star s.h.i.+nes in the heavens above, That guides him on his lonely way;-- Star of the North--how deep his love For thee, thou star of Liberty!

Farewell--farewell; Behind he leaves the whips and chains, Before him spreads sweet Freedom's plains.