Home.

Think of the slave in your hours of wo-
What are your sorrows to that he bears?
Quenching the light of his bosom's glow,
With a life-long stain of gushing tears.

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Think of the slave in your hours of prayer,
When worldly thoughts in your hearts are dim;
Offer you thanks for the bliss ye share,
But pray for a brighter lot for him.

Home.

XXII.*

W. J. SNELLING.

GREAT God, if the humble and weak are as dear To thy love as the proud, to thy children give ear! Our brethren would drive us in deserts to roam; Forgive them, O Father, and keep us at home. Home, sweet home!

We know no other; this, this is our home.

Here, here our loved mothers, released from their toils

To watch o'er our cradles and joy in our smiles;

*This Hymn is expressive of the sentiments of our colored brethren with regard to the wild and cruel scheme of the American Colonization Society.

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Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers.

Here the bones of our fathers lie buried; and here Are friends, wives, and children, ay, all we hold dear.

Here is law, here is learning, and here we may

move,

Most merciful God, in the light of thy love. Boasts Afric such blessings? Oppressors, declare ! Oh no, we may seek but shall not find them there.

Columbia, dear land of our birthright! may He, Who made us a people, rain blessings on thee! From thy bosom no pleading shall tempt us to roam; Till force drive us from it, this, this is our home. Home, sweet home,

Till force drive us from it, this, this is our home.

Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers.

XXIII.

FELICIA HEMANS.

THE breaking waves dash'd bigh

On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches toss'd;

Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers.

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And the heavy night hung dark,

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moor'd their bark

On the wild New England shore.

New England.

PERCIVAL.

Hail to the land whereon we tread,
Our fondest boast;

The sepulchre of mighty dead,
The truest hearts that ever bled,

Who sleep on glory's brightest bed,
A fearless host;

No slave is here; our unchained feet
Walk freely as the waves that beat
Our coast.

There is no other land like thee,
No dearer shore;

Thou art the shelter of the free;

The home, the port of Liberty,
Thou hast been, and shalt ever be,
Till time is o'er.

Ere I forget to think upon

My land, shall mother curse the son
She bore.

Thou art the firm, unshaken rock,
On which we rest;

And, rising from thy hardy stock,

Thy sons the tyrant's frown shall mock,

And Slavery's galling chains unlock,
And free the oppressed :

All, who the wreath of Freedom twine
Beneath the shadow of their vine,

Are blessed.

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Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers.

Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true-hearted, came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame:

Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear;

They shook the depths of the desert gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard and the sea!

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free.

The ocean eagle soar'd

From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roar'dThis was their welcome home!

There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that pilgrim band;

Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?

There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

Prisoners' Evening Hymn.

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What sought they thus afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?-
They sought a faith's pure shrine!

Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod!

We will leave unstain'd what here they foundFreedom to worship God.

Prisoners' Evening Hymn.

XXIV.

FELICIA HEMANS.

WE see no more in thy pure skies,
How soft, O God! the sunset dies:
How every color'd hill and wood
Seems melting in the golden flood:
Yet, by the precious memories won
From bright hours now for ever gone,
Father! o'er all thy works, we know,
Thou still art shedding beauty's glow;
Still touching every cloud and tree
With glory, eloquent of Thee;