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.
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!