When traitors to Freedom, and Honor, and God, Thank God, that one arm from the shackle has broken! Thank God, that one man, as a freeman has spoken! O'er thy crags, Alleghany, a blast has been blown! Down thy tide, Susquehanna, the murmur has gone! To the land of the South-of the charter and chain Of Liberty sweetened with Slavery's pain Where the cant of Democracy dwells on the lips Right onward, oh, speed it! Wherever the blood In silence and darkness, the God-given mind; There, God speed it onward!—its truth will be felt The bonds shall be loosened-the iron shall melt! And oh, will the land where the free soul of PENN Still lingers and breathes over mountain and glen— Will the land where a BENEZET's spirit went forth To the peeled, and the meted, and outcast of Earth Where the words of the Charter of Liberty first From the soul of the sage and the patriot burst-Where first for the wronged and the weak of their kind. The Christian and statesman their efforts com bined Will that land of the free and the good wear a chain? Will the call to the rescue of Freedom be vain ? No, RITNER !—her "Friends," at thy warning shall stand Erect for the truth, like their ancestral band; Forgetting the feuds and the strife of past time, Counting coldness injustice, and silence a crime; Turning back from the cavil of creeds, to unite Once again for the poor in defence of the Right; Breasting calmly, but firmly, the full tide of Wrong, Overwhelmed, but not borne on its surges along; Unappalled by the danger, the shame and the pain, And counting each trial for Truth as their gain! And that bold-hearted yeomanry, honest and true, One brow for the brand-for the padlock one mouth? They cater to tyrants?—They rivet the chain, Which their fathers smote off, on the negro again? No, never!-one voice, like the sound in the cloud, When the roar of the storm waxes loud and more loud, Wherever the foot of the freeman hath pressed From the Delaware's marge to the Lake of the West, On the South-going breezes shall deepen and grow Till the land it sweeps over shall tremble below! The voice of a PEOPLE-uprisen-awakePennsylvania's watchword, with Freedom at stake, Thrilling up from each valley, flung down from each height, * OUR COUNTRY AND LIBERTY!-GOD FOR THE RIGHT!" THE PASTORAL LETTER. So, this is all-the utmost reach Was it thus with those, your predecessors, A "Pastoral Letter," grave and dull- From him who bellows from St. Peter's! And sword of temporal power to serve them. Oh, glorious days-when church and state Your Wilsons and your Cotton Mathers. No vile "itinerant" then could mar Of hanginan's whip and branding-iron. Then, wholesome laws relieved the church And priest and bailiff joined in search, Your fathers dealt not as ye deal With "non-professing" frantic teachers; They bored the tongue with red-hot steel, And flayed the backs of "female preachers," Old Newbury, had her fields a tongue, And Salem's streets could tell their story, Of fainting woman dragged along, Gashed by the whip, accursed and gory! And will ye ask me, why this taunt And suffering and heroic woman. No-for yourselves alone, I turn If when an earthquake voice of power, The Spirit of the Lord is going! When for the sighing of the poor, And for the needy, God hath risen, And chains are breaking, and a door Is opening for the souls in prison! If then ye would, with puny hands, Arrest the very work of Heaven, And bind anew the evil bands Which God's right arm of power hath riven What marvel that, in many a mind, To claim the right of free opinion? A glorious remnant linger yet, Whose lips are wet at Freedom's fountains, The coming of whose welcome feet Is beautiful upon our mountains ' Men, who the gospel tidings bring Of Liberty and Love for ever, Whose joy is an abiding spring, Whose peace is as a gentle river! But ye, who scorn the thrilling tale |