Liberty

New Castle, July 4, 1878

or a hundred years the pulse of timeHas throbbed for Liberty;For a hundred years the grand old climeColumbia has been free;5For a hundred years our country's love,The Stars and Stripes, has waved above.

Away far out on the gulf of years--Misty and faint and whiteThrough the fogs of wrong--a sail appears,10And the Mayflower heaves in sight,And drifts again, with its little flockOf a hundred souls, on Plymouth Rock.

Do you see them there--as long, long since--Through the lens of History;15Do you see them there as their chieftain printsIn the snow his bended knee,And lifts his voice through the wintry blastIn thanks for a peaceful home at last?

Though the skies are dark and the coast is bleak,20And the storm is wild and fierce,Its frozen flake on the upturned cheekOf the Pilgrim melts in tears,And the dawn that springs from the darkness thereIs the morning light of an answered prayer.25

The morning light of the day of PeaceThat gladdens the aching eyes,And gives to the soul that sweet releaseThat the present verifies,--Nor a snow so deep, nor a wind so chill30To quench the flame of a freeman's will!

II

Days of toil when the bleeding handOf the pioneer grew numb,When the untilled tracts of the barren land35Where the weary ones had comeCould offer nought from a fruitful soilTo stay the strength of the stranger's toil.

Days of pain, when the heart beat low,And the empty hours went by40Pitiless, with the wail of woeAnd the moan of Hunger's cry--When the trembling hands upraised in prayerHad only the strength to hold them there.

Days when the voice of hope had fled--45Days when the eyes grown weakWere folded to, and the tears they shedWere frost on a frozen cheek--When the storm bent down from the skies and gaveA shroud of snow for the Pilgrim's grave.50

Days at last when the smiling sunGlanced down from a summer sky,And a music rang where the rivers run,And the waves went laughing by;And the rose peeped over the mossy bank55While the wild deer stood in the stream and drank.

And the birds sang out so loud and good,In a symphony so clearAnd pure and sweet that the woodman stoodWith his ax upraised to hear,60And to shape the words of the tongue unknownInto a language all his own--

1

'Sing! every bird, to-day!Sing for the sky so clear,65And the gracious breath of the atmosphereShall waft our cares away.Sing! sing! for the sunshine free;Sing through the land from sea to sea;Lift each voice in the highest key70And sing for Liberty!'

2

'Sing for the arms that flingTheir fetters in the dustAnd lift their hands in higher trust75Unto the one Great King;Sing for the patriot heart and hand;Sing for the country they have planned;Sing that the world may understandThis is Freedom's land!'80

3

'Sing in the tones of prayer,Sing till the soaring soulShall float above the world's controlIn freedom everywhere!85Sing for the good that is to be,Sing for the eyes that are to seeThe land where man at last is free,O sing for liberty!'

III90

A holy quiet reigned, save where the handOf labor sent a murmur through the land,And happy voices in a harmonyTaught every lisping breeze a melody.A nest of cabins, where the smoke upcurled95A breathing incense to the other world.A land of languor from the sun of noon,That fainted slowly to the pallid moon,Till stars, thick-scattered in the garden-landOf Heaven by the great Jehovah's hand,100Had blossomed into light to look uponThe dusky warrior with his arrow drawn,As skulking from the covert of the nightWith serpent cunning and a fiend's delight,With murderous spirit, and a yell of hate105The voice of Hell might tremble to translate:When the fond mother's tender lullabyWent quavering in shrieks all suddenly,And baby-lips were dabbled with the stainOf crimson at the bosom of the slain,110And peaceful homes and fortunes ruined--lostIn smoldering embers of the holocaust.Yet on and on, through years of gloom and strife,Our country struggled into stronger life;Till colonies, like footprints in the sand,115Marked Freedom's pathway winding through the land--And not the footprints to be swept awayBefore the storm we hatched in Boston Bay,--But footprints where the path of war begunThat led to Bunker Hill and Lexington,--120For he who "dared to lead where others daredTo follow" found the promise there declaredOf Liberty, in blood of Freedom's hostBaptized to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

Oh, there were times when every patriot breast125Was riotous with sentiments expressedIn tones that swelled in volume till the soundOf lusty war itself was well-nigh drowned.Oh, those were times when happy eyes with tearsBrimmed o'er as all the misty doubts and fears130Were washed away, and Hope with gracious mien,Reigned from her throne again a sovereign queen.Until at last, upon a day like thisWhen flowers were blushing at the summer's kiss,And when the sky was cloudless as the face135Of some sweet infant in its angel grace,--There came a sound of music, thrown afloatUpon the balmy air--a clanging noteReiterated from the brazen throatOf Independence Bell: A sound so sweet,140The clamoring throngs of people in the streetsWere stilled as at the solemn voice of prayer,And heads were bowed, and lips were moving thereThat made no sound--until the spell had passed,And then, as when all sudden comes the blast145Of some tornado, came the cheer on cheerOf every eager voice, while far and nearThe echoing bells upon the atmosphereSet glorious rumors floating, till the earOf every listening patriot tingled clear,150And thrilled with joy and jubilee to hear.

I

'Stir all your echoes up,O Independence Bell,And pour from your inverted cup155The song we love so well.

'Lift high your happy voice,And swing your iron tongueTill syllables of praise rejoiceThat never yet were sung.160

'Ring in the gleaming dawnOf Freedom--Toll the knellOf Tyranny, and then ring on,O Independence Bell.--

'Ring on, and drown the moan,165Above the patriot slain,Till sorrow's voice shall catch the toneAnd join the glad refrain.

'Ring out the wounds of wrongAnd rankle in the breast;170Your music like a slumber-songWill lull revenge to rest.

'Ring out from OccidentTo Orient, and pealFrom continent to continent175The mighty joy you feel.

'Ring! Independence Bell!Ring on till worlds to beShall listen to the tale you tellOf love and Liberty!'180

IV

O Liberty--the dearest wordA bleeding country ever heard,--We lay our hopes upon thy shrineAnd offer up our lives for thine.185You gave us many happy yearsOf peace and plenty ere the tearsA mourning country wept were driedAbove the graves of those who diedUpon thy threshold. And again190When newer wars were bred, and menWent marching in the cannon's breathAnd died for thee and loved the death,While, high above them, gleaming bright,The dear old flag remained in sight,195And lighted up their dying eyesWith smiles that brightened paradise.O Liberty, it is thy powerTo gladden us in every hourOf gloom, and lead us by thy hand200As little children through a landOf bud and blossom; while the daysAre filled with sunshine, and thy praiseIs warbled in the roundelaysOf joyous birds, and in the song205Of waters, murmuring alongThe paths of peace, whose flowery fringeHas roses finding deeper tingeOf crimson, looking on themselvesReflected--leaning from the shelves210Of cliff and crag and mossy moundOf emerald splendor shadow-drowned.--We hail thy presence, as you comeWith bugle blast and rolling drum,And booming guns and shouts of glee215Commingled in a symphonyThat thrills the worlds that throng to seeThe glory of thy pageantry.0And with thy praise, we breathe a prayerThat God who leaves you in our care220May favor us from this day onWith thy dear presence--till the dawnOf Heaven, breaking on thy face,Lights up thy first abiding place.