Imagini ale paginilor
PDF
ePub

ARE WE NOT BROTHERS ALL!

A HYMN.

ARE WE NOT BROTHERS ALL?

HUSHED be the battle's fearful roar,

The warrior's rushing call!

Why should the earth be drenched with gore? Are we not brothers all?

Want, from the starving poor depart!

Chains, from the captive fall!

Great God, subdue th' oppressor's heart!
Are we not brothers all?

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

That heaven its work at length may own,—

Are we not brothers all?

77

A THANKSGIVING PRAYER,*

IN RELATION TO OUR LATE NATIONAL VICTORIES.

ALMIGHTY FATHER, God of Hosts, we would lift up our hearts unto Thee in this hour of national joy and sorrow. We acknowledge and bless Thy Hoy Name for the manifold and manifest help and strength which Thou hast given to our armies, by which they have been enabled to meet and conquer thus far the powers of rebellion. Continue, we humbly beseech Thee, Thy gracious aid, so that all wrong may be vanquished, the universal gospel of freedom proclaimed, and peace again brood over our beloved country.

Our Father, temper in our hearts justice with mercy; let us not be elated by our successes as though it were our own might and wisdom that hath wrought out these victories; but let us ever bear in mind that if we are permitted to crush out this rebellion, it will be because it has its root in dire oppression of our fellow beings. O, then, give unto our President, to his counsellors, to our legislators, and to all having command in the nation, a heart to know

From "The Crisis," a semi-monthly periodical, edited by the Rev. H. WELLER, Laporte, Indiana.

A BRIEF NATIONAL HYMN.

79

and feel Thy Holy Will, and in accordance therewith to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke.

O, Thou God of Consolation, we earnestly pray that Thou wilt support the afflicted all that mourn their departed ones on the battle-field. May they be all supported by the inflowings of Thy Holy Spirit-bringing to their remembrance the glorious truths of Thy Kingdom, and pointing them to an eternal home in the heavens. Sanctify all these dispensations to their eternal good. sympathetic hearts, that the widow and fatherless, the sick and wounded may be soothed and nourished by the ministrations of love, so far as human help is needed. But above all may we ever ascribe unto Thee the dominion, power and glory for ever. Amen.

And give to us all

A BRIEF NATIONAL HYMN.

GREAT GOD! Thou dost all nations rule,
And their affairs control:

Thy power extends o'er all the earth,
Thy love, from pole to pole.

Let blessings fall in copious showers
Upon our nation's head!

Our rulers guide, and let them be
In paths of wisdom led!

EXULTATIONS AND PRAISE FOR VICTORY,

IN LANGUAGE FROM SCRIPTURE.

[ocr errors]

THE Lord is a man of war: the Lord is His name. Thy right hand, O Lord, is become glorious in power: Thy right hand, O Lord, hath dashed in pieces the enemy. And in the greatness of Thine excellency Thou hast overthrown them that rose up against Thee.-Exodus xv. 3, 6, 7.

This is the Lord's doing; it is marvellous in our eyes.-Psalm cxviii. 23.

For the Lord fought for Israel.-Joshua x. 14. Therefore I will look unto the Lord.-Micah vii. 7. Who delivered us from so great a death.-2 Cor. i. 10.

Now, therefore, our God, we thank Thee, and praise Thy glorious name.-1 Chron. xxix. 13.

Seeing that Thou, our God, hast punished us less than our iniquities deserve, and hast given us such deliverance as this, should we again break Thy com. mandments?-Ezra ix. 13, 14.

I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.-Psalm cxvi. 9.

I have sworn, and I will perform it, that I will keep Thy righteous judgments.-Psalm cxix. 106.

OUR SUCCESSES AT PORT ROYAL.

81

OUR SUCCESSES AT PORT ROYAL.*

With oar-strokes timing to their song,

They weave in simple lays

The pathos of remembered wrong,

The hope of better days.

SONG OF THE NEGRO BOATMEN.

Он, praise an' tanks! De Lord he come

To set de people free;

An' massa tink it day ob doom,

An' we ob jubilee.

De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves

He jus’ as ’trong as den ;

He say de word: we las' night slaves;
To-day, de Lord's freemen.

De

yam will grow, de cotton blow,

We 'll hab de rice an' corn:

Oh, nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!

Ole massa on he trabbles gone;
He leab de land behind :

• From the Atlantic Monthly, for February, 1862.

« ÎnapoiContinuă »