the soil,
’Till a place for human footprints,
Crown the little builder’s toil.
When the stately ships sweep o’er them,
Cresting all the sea with foam,
Little think these patient toilers,
They are building man a home.
Do you ask me, precious children,
How your little hands can build,
That you love the name of freedom,
But your fingers are unskilled?
Not on thrones or in proud temples,
Does fair freedom seek her rest;
No, her chosen habitations,
Are the hearts that love her best.
Would you gain the highest freedom?
Live for God and man alone,
Then each heart in freedom’s temple,
Will be like a living stone.
Fill your minds with useful knowledge,
Learn to love the true and right;
Thus you’ll build the throne of freedom,
On a pedestal of light.
The Dying Child to Her Blind Father
Dear father, I hear a whisper,
It tells me that I must go,
And my heart returns her answer
In throbbings so faint and low.
I’m sorry to leave you, father,
I know you will miss me so,
And the world for you will gather
A gloomier shade of woe.
You will miss me, dearest father,
When the violets wake from sleep,
And timidly from their hedges
The early snow-drops peep,
I shall not be here to gather
The flowers by stream and dell,
The bright and beautiful flowers,
Dear Father, you love so well.
You will miss my voice, dear father,
From every earthly tone,
All the songs that cheered your darkness,
And you’ll be so sad and lone.
I can scarcely rejoice, dear father,
In hope of the brighter land,
When I know you’ll pine in sadness,
And miss my guiding hand.
You are weeping, dearest father,
Your sobs are shaking my soul,
but we’ll meet again where the shadow
And night from your eyes shall roll.
And then you will see me, father,
With visions undimmed and clear,
Your eyes will sparkle with rapture—
You know there’s no blindness there.
Light in Darkness
We’ve room to build holy altars
Where our crumbling idols lay;
We’ve room for heavenly visions,
When our earth dreams fade away.
Through rifts and rents in our fortune
We gazed with blinding tears,
Till glimpses of light and beauty
Gilded our gloomy fears.
An angel stood at our threshold,
We thought him a child of night,
Till we saw the print of his steps
Made lines of living light.
We had much the world calls precious;
We had heaps of shining dust;
He laid his hand on our treasures,
And wrote on them moth and rust.
But still we had other treasures,
That gold was too poor to buy,
We clasped them closer and closer,
But saw them fade and die.
Our spirit grew faint and heavy,
Deep shadows lay on our years,
Till light from the holy city,
Streamed through our mist of tears.
And we thanked the chastening angel
Who shaded our earthly light,
For the light and beautiful visions
That broke on our clearer sight.
Our first view of the Holy City
Came through our darken’d years,
The songs that lightened our sorrows,
We heard ’mid our night of tears.
Our English Friends
Your land is crowned with regal men,
Whose brows ne’er wore a diadem—
The men who, in our hour of need,
Reached out their hands and bade God speed.
Who watched across the distant strand
The anguish of our fainting land,
And grandly made our cause their own,
Till Slavery tottered on her throne.
When Slavery, full of wrath and strife,
Was clutching at the Nation’s life,
How precious were your words of cheer
That fell upon the listening ear.
And when did Fame, with glowing pen,
Record the deeds of nobler men—
The men who, facing want and pain,
Loved freedom more than paltry gain.
O noble men! ye bravely stood
True to our country’s highest good;
May God, who saw your aims and ends,
Forever bless our English friends!
Aunt Chloe
I remember, well remember,
That dark and dreadful day,
When they whispered to me, “Chloe,
Your children’s sold away!”
It seemed as if a bullet
Had shot me through and through,
And I felt as if my heart-strings
Was breaking right in two.
And I says to cousin Milly,
“There must be some mistake;
Where’s Mistus?” “In the great house crying—
Crying like her heart would break.
“And the lawyer’s there with Mistus;
Says he’s come to ’ministrate,
’Cause when master died he just left
Heap of debt on the estate.
“And I thought ’twould do you good
To bid your boys good-bye—
To kiss them both and shake their hands,
And have a hearty cry.
“Oh! Chloe, I knows how you feel,
’Cause I’se been through it all;
I thought my poor old heart would break,
When master sold my Saul.”
Just then I heard the footsteps
Of my children at the door,
And I rose right up to meet them,
But I fell upon the floor.
And I heard poor Jakey saying,
“Oh, mammy, don’t you cry!”
And I felt my children kiss me
And bid me, both, good-bye.
Then I had a mighty sorrow,
Though I nursed it all alone;
But I wasted to a shadow,
And turned to skin and bone.
But one day dear Uncle Jacob
(In heaven he’s now a saint)
Said, “Your poor heart is in the fire,
But child you must not faint.”
Then I said to Uncle Jacob,
If I was good like you,
When the heavy trouble dashed me
I’d know just what to do.
Then he said to me, “Poor Chloe,
The way is open wide:”
And he told me of the Saviour,
And the fountain in His side.
Then he said “Just take your burden
To the blessed Master’s feet;
I takes all my troubles, Chloe,
Right unto the mercy-seat.”
His words waked up my courage,
And I began to pray,
And I felt my heavy burden
Rolling like a stone away.
And a something seemed to tell me,
You will see your boys again—
And that hope was like a poultice
Spread upon a dreadful pain.
And it often seemed to whisper,
Chloe, trust and never fear;
You’ll get justice in the kingdom,
If you do not get it here.
The Deliverance
Master only left old Mistus
One bright and handsome boy;
But she fairly doted on him,
He was her pride and joy.
We all liked Mister
