Redeemed from Falsehood's ban, When the fetters shall be broken, And the slave shall be a man! Joy to thy spirit, brother! Our Present Help was thine! Lo-the waking up of nations, Glory to God forever! Beyond the despot's will The soul of Freedom liveth Imperishable still. The words which thou hast uttered And the good seed thou hast scattered In the evil days before us, And the trials yet to come In the shadow of the prison, We will think of th of thee, O brother! And thy sainted name shall be In the blessing of the captive, And the anthem of the free. 1834. LINES, ON THE DEATH OF S. O. TORREY. GONE before us, O our brother, Oh! thy gentle smile of greeting Early hath the spoiler found thee, Autumn's faded earth around thee, In the locks thy forehead gracing, 67 Will the vigil Love is keeping If the spirit ever gazes, From its journeyings, back; Peace be with thee, O our brother, A LAMENT. -"The parted spirit, Knoweth it not our sorrow? Answereth not THE circle is broken-one seat is forsaken, — One bud from the tree of our friendship is shaken One heart from among us no longer shall thrill Weep!-lonely and lowly, are slumbering now light of her glances, the pride of her brow, Weep!-sadly and long shall we listen in vain To hear the soft tones of her welcome again. Give our tears to the dead! For humanity's claim From its silence and darkness is ever the same ; The hope of that World whose existence is bliss May not stifle the tears of the mourners of this. For, oh! if one glance the freed spirit can throw On the scene of its troubled probation below, Than the pride of the marble-the pomp of the dead To that glance will be dearer the tears which we shed. Oh, who can forget the mild light of her smile, Over lips moved with music and feeling the whileThe eye's deep enchantment, dark, dream-like, and clear, In the glow of its gladness-the shade of its tear. And the charm of her features, while over the whole Played the hues of the heart and the sunshine of soul,And the tones of her voice, like the music which Murmured low in our ears by the Angel of dreams! seems But holier and dearer our memories hold Those treasures of feeling, more precious than goldThe love and the kindness and pity which gave Fresh flowers for the bridal, green wreaths for the grave! The heart ever open to Charity's claim, Fell the scorn of the heartless, the jesting and jeer. How true to our hearts was that beautiful sleeper! With smiles for the joyful, with tears for the weeper! Yet, evermore prompt, whether mournful or gay, With warnings in love to the passing astray. For, though spotless herself, she could sorrow for them Who sullied with evil the spirit's pure gem; love. As a cloud of the sunset, slow melting in heaven, DANIEL WHEELER. [DANIEL WHEELER, a minister of the Society of Friends, and who had labored in the cause of his Divine Master in Great Britain, Russia, and the islands of the Pacific, died in New York In the spring of 1840, while on a religious visit to this country.] Он, dearly loved! And worthy of our love!-No more |