THUS saith the mercy of the Lord,

'I'll be a God to thee;

I'll bless thy numerous race,

and they

Shall be a seed for me.'

To an Infant.

WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.

Remember, when thou com'st to riper years,
That unto God, from earliest infancy,
Thy grateful father dedicated thee,

And sought his guidance through this vale of tears.
Fear God-then disregard all other fears;

Be, in his truth, erect, majestic, free;
Abhor Oppression-cling to Liberty—

Nor recreant prove though horrid death appears.
I charge thee, in the name of him who died

On Calvary's cross,-an ignominious fate,-
If thou would'st reign with the Great Crucified,
Thy reputation and thy life to hate :-
Thus shalt thou save them both, nor be denied

A glittering crown and throne of heavenly state!

With humble faith, eternal King,
Thy promise we embrace :
To thee our infant offspring bring,
And supplicate thy grace.

O, dearest child of all this populous earth!
Yet no more precious than the meanest slave !
To rescue thee from bondage, I would brave
All dangers, and count life of little worth,
And make of stakes and gibbets scornful mirth.
Am I not perilling as much to save,

E'en now,
from bonds, a race who freedom crave?
To bless the sable infant from its birth?
Yet I am covered with reproach and scorn,
And branded as a madman through the land!
But loving thee, free one, my own first born,
I feel for all who wear an iron band-
So heaven regard my son when I am gone,

And aid and bless him with a liberal hand!

Extension of Slavery in the United States.

ΧΟΙ.

S. RIPLEY.

WEEP, Sons of Feedom! your honor is low;
'Tis bleeding in liberty's desolate fane:
They whom ye trusted have bowed to the foe!
Oppression has conquered your country again.

Weep, sons of Freedom! your scutcheon is stained;

The star-spangled banner' waves proudly no

more:

'The land of the free' has been foully profaned; Again hath the tyrant prevailed on her shore!

Weep, sons of Freedom, o'er Liberty crushed! Yet strive to deliver the down trodden slave; Though the foes of mankind bid your voices be hushed;

Though the poor of the land it is treason to save!

Weep, sons of Freedom! for yet there is hope;
The tears of repentance are pleasing to Him
Who casteth ye down, or lifteth ye up ;-
Let the cup of repentance be filled to the brim.

164

The Day of Judgment.

Haste! sons of Freedom! the burdens undo; Break the yoke of your bondmen, and bid them be free:

Then your light shall break forth as the morning

anew;

' like a river' that flows to the sea.

The Day of Judgment.

XCII.

FROM every clime beneath the skies,
Profaned by slavery's chain,
The prayers of captive millions rise;
And shall they plead in vain ?

The Solemn Song of a Righteous Heart.

[After the Fashion of an Old English Poet.]

WILLIAM MOTHERWELL.

Poor fluttering Soule! why tremble soe,
To quitt Lyfe's fast decaying Tree;
Time wormes its core, and it must bowe
To Fates decree ;

Its last branch breakes, but Thou must soare,

For Evermore.

The Day of Judgment.

Shall man, of little power possessed,
His fellow worm enthral;

And rudely from his brother wrest

A blessing-given to all?

Yes! thus it is;—yet, not unpaid,
His tyranny prevails;

And all his barbarous deeds are weighed
In heaven's unerring scales.

Noe more thy wing shal touch grosse Earth;

For under shal its shadows flee,

And al its sounds of Woe or Mirth

Growe strange to thee.

Thou wilt not mingle in its noyse,
And court its Joies.

Fond One! Why cling thus unto Life,
As if its gaudes were meet for thee ;
Surely its Follie, Bloodshed, Stryfe,
Liked never thee?

This World growes madder each newe daie,
Vice beares such sway.

Couldst thou in Slavish artes excel,

And crawle upon the suple knee-
Couldst thou each Woe-worn wretch repel,-
This Worldes for Thee.

Not in this Spheare Man ownes a Brother:

Then seek another.

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