Part 3

There's a good time coming boys, A good time coming; Hateful rivalries of creed, Shall not make their martyrs bleed, In the good time coming. Religion shall be shorn of pride, And flourish all the stronger; And Charity shall trim her lamp, Wait a little longer. O, there's a good time, &c.

There's a good time coming boys, A good time coming; War in all men's eyes shall be, A monster of iniquity, In the good time coming. Nations shall not quarrel then, To prove which is the stronger; Nor slaughter men for glory's sake, Wait a little longer. O, there's a good time, &c.

THE BIGOT FIRE.

Written on the occasion of George Latimer's Imprisonment in Levorott street Jail, Boston.

O, kindle not that bigot fire, 'T will bring disunion, fear and pain; 'T will rouse at last the souther's ire, And burst our starry land in twain.

Theirs is the high, the noble worth, The very soul of chivalry; Rend not our blood-bought land apart, For such a thing as slavery.

This is the language of the North, I shame to say it but't is true; And anti-slavery calls it forth, From some proud priests and laymen too.

What! bend forsooth to southern rule? What! cringe and crawl to souther's clay, And be the base, the supple tool, Of hell-begotten slavery?

No! never, while the free air plays O'er our rough hills and sunny fountains, Shall proud New England's sons be _free_, And clank their fetters round her mountains.

Go if ye will and grind in dust, Dark Afric's poor, degraded child; Wring from his sinews gold accursed, And boast your gospel warm and mild.

While on our mountain tops the pine In freedom her green branches wave, Her sons shall never stoop to bind The galling shackle of the slave.

Ye dare demand with haughty tone, For us to pander to your shame, To give our brother up alone, To feel the lash and wear the chain.

Our brother never shall go back, When once he presses our free shore; Though souther's power with hell to back, Comes thundering at our northern door.

No! rather be our starry land, Into a thousand fragments riven; Upon our own free hills we'll stand, And pour upon the breeze of heaven, A curse so loud, so stern, so deep, Shall start ye in your guilty sleep.

OFT IN THE CHILLY NIGHT.

Oft in the chilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, When all her silvery light The moon is pouring round me, Beneath its ray I kneel and pray That God would give some token That slavery's chains on Southern plains, Shall all ere long be broken; Yes, in the chilly night, Though slavery's chain has bound me, Kneel I, and feel the might Of God's right arm around me.

When at the driver's call, In cold or sultry weather, We slaves, both great and small, Turn out to toil together, I feel like one from whom the sun Of hope has long departed; And morning's light, and weary night, Still find me broken hearted; Thus, when the chilly breath Of night is sighing round me, Kneel I, and wish that death In his cold chain had bound me.

ARE YE TRULY FREE?

AIR--Martyn.

Men! whose boast it is that ye Come of fathers brave and free; If there breathe on earth a slave, Are ye truly free and brave? Are ye not base slaves indeed, Men unworthy to be freed, If ye do not feel the chain, When it works a brother's pain?

Women! who shall one day bear Sons to breathe God's bounteous air, If ye hear without a blush, Deeds to make the roused blood rush Like red lava through your veins, For your sisters now in chains; Answer! are ye fit to be Mothers of the brave and free?

Is true freedom but to break Fetters for our own dear sake, And, with leathern hearts forget That we owe mankind a debt? No! true freedom is to share All the chains our brothers wear, And with hand and heart to be Earnest to make others free.

They are slaves who fear to speak For the fallen and the weak; They are slaves, who will not choose Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, Rather than, in silence, shrink From the truth they needs must think; They are slaves, who dare not be In the right with _two_ or _three_.

EMANCIPATION SONG.

AIR--Crambambule.

Let waiting throngs now lift their voices, As Freedom's glorious day draws near, While every gentle tongue rejoices, And each bold heart is filled with cheer; The slave has seen the Northern star, He'll soon be free, hurrah, hurrah!

Though many still are writhing under The cruel whips of "chevaliers," Who mothers from their children sunder, And scourge them for their helpless tears-- Their safe deliverance is not far! The day draws nigh!--hurrah, hurrah!

Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest Surrounds the earth as with a pall; Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest, That on thy sight the rays may fall! No doubt let now thy bosom mar; Send up the shout--hurrah, hurrah!

Shall we distrust the God of Heaven?-- He every doubt and fear will quell; By him the captive's chains are riven-- So let us loud the chorus swell! Man shall be free from cruel law,-- Man shall be MAN!--hurrah, hurrah!

No more again shall it be granted To southern overseers to rule-- No more will pilgrims' sons be taunted With cringing low in slavery's school. So clear the way for Freedom's car-- The free shall rule!--hurrah, hurrah!

Send up the shout Emancipation-- From heaven let the echoes bound-- Soon will it bless this franchised nation, Come raise again the stirring sound! Emancipation near and far-- Swell up the shout--hurrah! hurrah!

WHAT MEAN YE?

AIR--Ortonville.

What mean ye that ye bruise and bind My people, saith the Lord, And starve your craving brother's mind, Who asks to hear my word?

What mean ye that ye make them toil, Through long and dreary years, And shed like rain upon your soil Their blood and bitter tears?

What mean ye, that ye dare to rend The tender mother's heart? Brothers from sisters, friend from friend, How dare you bid them part?

What mean ye, when God's bounteous hand To you so much has given, That from the slave who tills your land Ye keep both earth and heaven?

When at the judgment God shall call, Where is thy brother? say, What mean ye to the Judge of all To answer on that day?

LIGHT OF TRUTH.

Hark! a voice from heaven proclaiming Comfort to the mourning slave: God 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 God 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 shining 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 God, but give me Liberty! Farewell--farewell; Behind I leave the whips and chains, Before me spreads sweet Freedom's plains.

One star shines 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.

INDEX.

Am I not a Man and Brother? A.C.L. O, Pity the Slave Mother. Words from Liberator The Blind Slave Boy. Mrs. Bailey Ye Sons of Freemen. Mrs. J.G. Carter Freedom's Star. Harris Liberty Ball. Clarke Emancipation Hymn. Over the Mountain. J. Hutchinson Jr. Jubilee Song. Spirit of Freemen, Wake. Slave's Lamentation. Parody Tucker Flight of the Bondman. Smith Sweets of Liberty. Ye Spirits of the Free. Colonization Song. A Slaveholder I am an Abolitionist. Garrison The Bereaved Mother. J. Hutchinson The Chase. Douglass' North Star Fling out the Anti Slavery Flag. The Yankee Girl. Whittier Jefferson's Daughter. The Auction. Get off the Track. J. Hutchinson Jr. Be Free, O Man, be Free. M.H. Maxwell Fugitive Slave to the Christian. E. Wright Jr. Rescue the Slave. Latimer Journal Slave-holder to the North Star. Pierpont The Coffle Gang. A Slave Zaza, the Female Slave. Miss Ball We're Coming. On to Victory. The Man for me. Parody Tucker The Bondman. Words from Liberator Right On. A Christian Fugitive's Triumph. Freedom's Banner. R.C. Wateson Good Time Coming. J. Hutchinson Jr. A Song for Freedom. Your Brother is a Slave. D.H. Jaques Come Join the Abolitionists. The Bigot Fire. John Ramsdale Oft in the Chilly Night. Pierpont Are ye Truly Free? J.R. Lowell Emancipation Song. Bangor Gazette What mean ye? Light of Truth. Oliver Johnson Flying Slave. Bangor Gazette Ye Heralds of Freedom.