Hymn For The Celebration Of Emancipation At Newburyport

Not unto us who did but seek     The word that burned within to speak,     Not unto us this day belong     The triumph and exultant song.     Upon us fell in early youth     The burden of unwelcome truth,     And left us, weak and frail and few,     The censor's painful work to do.     Thenceforth our life a fight became,     The air we breathed was hot with blame;     For not with gauged and softened tone     We made the bondman's cause our own.     We bore, as Freedom's hope forlorn,     The private hate, the public scorn;     Yet held through all the paths we trod     Our faith in man and trust in God.     We prayed and hoped; but still, with awe,     The coming of the sword we saw;     We heard the nearing steps of doom,     We saw the shade of things to come.     In grief which they alone can feel     Who from a mother's wrong appeal,     With blended lines of fear and hope     We cast our country's horoscope.     For still within her house of life     We marked the lurid sign of strife,     And, poisoning and imbittering all,     We saw the star of Wormwood fall.     Deep as our love for her became     Our hate of all that wrought her shame,     And if, thereby, with tongue and pen     We erred, we were but mortal men.     We hoped for peace; our eyes survey     The blood-red dawn of Freedom's day:     We prayed for love to loose the chain;     'T is shorn by battle's axe in twain!     Nor skill nor strength nor zeal of ours     Has mined and heaved the hostile towers;     Not by our hands is turned the key     That sets the sighing captives free.     A redder sea than Egypt's wave     Is piled and parted for the slave;     A darker cloud moves on in light;     A fiercer fire is guide by night!     The praise, O Lord! is Thine alone,     In Thy own way Thy work is done!     Our poor gifts at Thy feet we cast,     To whom be glory, first and last