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THE BRITISH PRESS.
What's nobler than the Press?
Where else may Freedom find
The ready hand that can redress
The wrongs of human kind?
It is a people's power—
The terror of the strong:
Abler than armies in the hour
Of tyranny and wrong.
The sword may strike oppression down;
But sharper than the sword,
And mightier than a monarch's crown,
The Press maintains its word!
Where else may Freedom find
The ready hand that can redress
The wrongs of human kind?
It is a people's power—
The terror of the strong:
Abler than armies in the hour
Of tyranny and wrong.
The sword may strike oppression down;
But sharper than the sword,
And mightier than a monarch's crown,
The Press maintains its word!
It marks the footsteps of the age,
The progress of the time;
Its seal is stamp'd on every page,
In every land and clime:
It setteth principle above
The brutal hand of force,
And forth, in usefulness and love,
It runs its glorious course!
And they whose meaner minds can scheme
To crush its honest sway,
As well, in fruitless hate, might dream
To check the light of day.
The progress of the time;
Its seal is stamp'd on every page,
In every land and clime:
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The brutal hand of force,
And forth, in usefulness and love,
It runs its glorious course!
And they whose meaner minds can scheme
To crush its honest sway,
As well, in fruitless hate, might dream
To check the light of day.
What's dearer than the Press
To every manly heart?
What voice is first the right to bless,
To act the patriot's part?
The spirit, manners, customs, arts,
Opinions, changes,—all
That worth to human life imparts,—
Its columns can recall.
It moves—and every bar is hurl'd
Athwart its path like weeds!
It speaks—and it divides the world
In parties, powers, and creeds!
To every manly heart?
What voice is first the right to bless,
To act the patriot's part?
The spirit, manners, customs, arts,
Opinions, changes,—all
That worth to human life imparts,—
Its columns can recall.
It moves—and every bar is hurl'd
Athwart its path like weeds!
It speaks—and it divides the world
In parties, powers, and creeds!
The textures of our social state,
The aspects of the past,—
When different creeds fed mutual hate,
And conscience overcast,—
These live within its potent lines,
And ancient errors show;
From these a guiding spirit shines
Which every man should know.
When stood the Press with front of steel,
While meaner champions fled?
When it was crime to set the heel
Upon the serpent's head!
The aspects of the past,—
When different creeds fed mutual hate,
And conscience overcast,—
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And ancient errors show;
From these a guiding spirit shines
Which every man should know.
When stood the Press with front of steel,
While meaner champions fled?
When it was crime to set the heel
Upon the serpent's head!
What's holier than the Press,
Which hallows every home;
Which lifts the darkness from distress,
And points the light to come!
Which teaches faith when hope is dull;
And, onward as we plod,
Reveals to us the beautiful,
Uprising like a god!
For not uncared for, in his day
Of sorrow, man hath been:
Angels have watched his troubled way,
And helped him when unseen!
Which hallows every home;
Which lifts the darkness from distress,
And points the light to come!
Which teaches faith when hope is dull;
And, onward as we plod,
Reveals to us the beautiful,
Uprising like a god!
For not uncared for, in his day
Of sorrow, man hath been:
Angels have watched his troubled way,
And helped him when unseen!
'Tis true the men are few
That turn with grateful hearts,
To names where every meed is due
That human fame imparts;
'Tis easy to forget
The patriot debt we owe;
But there are dates in history yet
Time cannot overthrow!
The men that battled for the right
When right was hard to win;
Who braved the axe, and laugh'd at might,
When Might called Freedom sin.
That turn with grateful hearts,
To names where every meed is due
That human fame imparts;
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The patriot debt we owe;
But there are dates in history yet
Time cannot overthrow!
The men that battled for the right
When right was hard to win;
Who braved the axe, and laugh'd at might,
When Might called Freedom sin.
Great hearts have girt thee round,
O Press, revered of yore!
Burke, Milton, More, have crown'd
Thy rule for evermore!
Their sacred banner was “Advance!”
Integrity their guide,
And Truth the consecrated lance
That swept each bar aside!
Such are the names our land should bless!
The song of age and youth
Should still be, Honour to the Press,
And Victory to Truth!
O Press, revered of yore!
Burke, Milton, More, have crown'd
Thy rule for evermore!
Their sacred banner was “Advance!”
Integrity their guide,
And Truth the consecrated lance
That swept each bar aside!
Such are the names our land should bless!
The song of age and youth
Should still be, Honour to the Press,
And Victory to Truth!
Then, if thy power be great,
Great be thy justice too;
Be fearless in thy place to state
Whate'er to man is due.
Be thou to every heart a guide,
A lamp to every mind;
So shall thy course be sanctified—
Teaching, as God design'd;
And never be thy power abused,
Thy mission here misled;
Oh, never may thou stand accused
Before the Patriot Dead!
Great be thy justice too;
Be fearless in thy place to state
Whate'er to man is due.
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A lamp to every mind;
So shall thy course be sanctified—
Teaching, as God design'd;
And never be thy power abused,
Thy mission here misled;
Oh, never may thou stand accused
Before the Patriot Dead!
Lend Education aid
Where'er thy voice can reach;
No text is more obey'd
Than that the Press can preach.
Bid trade the wide earth span;
Speed labour to its due;
Bid mind-enlightened man
God's Eden-world renew.
Still every good befriend,
And every ill enthral,
Till man's improvement end
But with the end of all!
Where'er thy voice can reach;
No text is more obey'd
Than that the Press can preach.
Bid trade the wide earth span;
Speed labour to its due;
Bid mind-enlightened man
God's Eden-world renew.
Still every good befriend,
And every ill enthral,
Till man's improvement end
But with the end of all!
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