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| 710 THE UNDERGROUND BAIL ROAD. But, wo for ns 1—who linger still With feebler strength and heart* lees lowly, And minds lees steadfast to the will Of Him, whoee every work is holy I For not like thine, is crucified The spirit of our human pride: And at the bondman's tale of woe, And for the on toast and forsaken, Not warm like thine, but cold and alow, Onr weaker sympathies awaken I Darkly upon our struggling way The Btorm of human hate is sweeping ; Hunted and branded, and a prey, Oar watch amidst tbe darkness keeping t Oh! for that hidden strength which can -Nerve unto death the inner man ! Oh—for thy spirit tried and true And constant in the hour of trial— Prepared to suffer or to do In meekness and in self-denial. Oh, for that spirit meek and mild, Derided, spurned, yet uncomplaining— By man deserted and reviled, Yet faithful to its trust remaining. Still prompt and resolute to save From scourge and chain the hunted slave 1 Unwavering in the truth's defence E'en where the fires of bate are burning, Tbo unqnailing eye of innocence Alone upon the oppressor turning ! Oh, loved of thousands! to thy grave, Sorrowing of heart, thy brethren bore thee t Tbe poor man and the rescued slave Wept as the broken earth closed o'er thee— And grateful teaw, like summer rain, Quickened its dying grass again!— And there, as to some pilgrim shrine. Shall come the outcast and tbe lowly, Of gentle deeds and words of tbme Recalling memories sweet and holy I Oh, for tbe death the righteous die! An end, like Autumn's day declining, On human hearts, as on the sky, With holier, tenderer beauty shining f As to tbe parting soul were given The radiance of an opening heaven t As if that pure and blessed light From off the eternal altar flowing, Were bathing in its upward flight The spirit to its worship going 1 |