To The Memory Of Charles B. Storrs

Thou hast fallen in thine armor,     Thou martyr of the Lord     With thy last breath crying "Onward!"     And thy hand upon the sword.     The haughty heart derideth,     And the sinful lip reviles,     But the blessing of the perishing     Around thy pillow smiles!     When to our cup of trembling     The added drop is given,     And the long-suspended thunder     Falls terribly from Heaven,     When a new and fearful freedom     Is proffered of the Lord     To the slow-consuming Famine,     The Pestilence and Sword!     When the refuges of Falsehood     Shall be swept away in wrath,     And the temple shall be shaken,     With its idol, to the earth,     Shall not thy words of warning     Be all remembered then?     And thy now unheeded message     Burn in the hearts of men?     Oppression's hand may scatter     Its nettles on thy tomb,     And even Christian bosoms     Deny thy memory room;     For lying lips shall torture     Thy mercy into crime,     And the slanderer shall flourish     As the bay-tree for a time.     But where the south-wind lingers     On Carolina's pines,     Or falls the careless sunbeam     Down Georgia's golden mines;     Where now beneath his burthen     The toiling slave is driven;     Where now a tyrant's mockery     Is offered unto Heaven;     Where Mammon hath its altars     Wet o'er with human blood,     And pride and lust debases     The workmanship of God,     There shall thy praise be spoken,     Redeemed from Falsehood's ban,     When the fetters shall be broken,     And the slave shall be a man!     Joy to thy spirit, brother!     A thousand hearts are warm,     A thousand kindred bosoms     Are baring to the storm.     What though red-handed Violence     With secret Fraud combine?     The wall of fire is round us,     Our Present Help was thine.     Lo, the waking up of nations,     From Slavery's fatal sleep;     The murmur of a Universe,     Deep calling unto Deep!     Joy to thy spirit, brother!     On every wind of heaven     The onward cheer and summons     Of Freedom's voice is given!     Glory to God forever!     Beyond the despot's will     The soul of Freedom liveth     Imperishable still.     The words which thou hast uttered     Are of that soul a part,     And the good seed thou hast scattered     Is springing from the heart.     In the evil days before us,     And the trials yet to come,     In the shadow of the prison,     Or the cruel martyrdom,     We will think of thee, O brother!     And thy sainted name shall be     In the blessing of the captive,     And the anthem of the free.