Idle Moments : :: :: University of Virginia Library

Blest freedom! 'tis the sweetest strain that fills the human heart,
Its blessings must delight the soul, and sweetest joys impart;
The feathered songsters of the globe were mute if caged in gold,
And, though in rags, the heart, free, beats in ecstacy untold.

Upon the ocean, calm and deep, a lordly vessel sails.
She bears upon her swelling breast twenty human slaves;
Far from their native land to dwell, beneath an alien sky,
Far from that dear and sunny home where Africa's waters lie.

She landed on Virginia's shore, just where we stand to-day,
And gaze upon a lovely group, clad in bright array.
And mem'ries strong and deep arise, and quick the tear-drops spring,
As we think of what to-day we are, and what we late have been.

But yesterday, and dark the cloud that hung above our sky;
To-day 'tis past, and, full of joy, the tears of gladness rise.
The day we longed and prayed for sore, at last has blessed our sight,
And, that we come to celebrate, who can but say 'tis right?

E'en in our slav'ry we can trace the kindly hand of God,
That took us from our sunny land, and from our native sod,
Where tropic birds their matins sing, and, sweet the streamlets flow,
And kindly Nature sweetly smiles upon the vales below.

Where scented zephyrs fan the cheek, and heav'nly music swells,
And God's own matchless finger paints the lovely hills and dells;
There sweetest music fills the air, while beautious Nature smiles,
And every scene delights the soul, but only man is vile.

There, clad in Nature's simplest garb he roamed a savage wild,
Untamed his passions, half a man, and half a savage child,
And knew not God, save, what in stones, the God of love revealed,
The blessed Revelation was to him a message sealed.

And God to teach him His dear will saw fit to bring him where
He learned of Him and Jesus Christ, those lessons rich and rare;
He made the savage into man tho' moulded by the rod,
And, Ethiopia has, indeed, stretched forth her hands to God.

He was a man, and felt as men, his soul with anguish burned.
His heart with deep pulsations beat, and indignations spurned;
But God still held him to the blast, and still afflicted sore,
And still he groaned, and still he prayed, yet still his burden bore.

But, like the cries of Israel old, his prayers ascended high,
And reached the great Jehovah's throne, beyond the azure sky,
And His own power brought freedom down, and broke the chain, despair,
And bade the Negro walk with men, as free as Nature's air.

But was he true? speak Bunker Hill! and Boston Common say,
Did he defend from British foe on that historic day?
While thousands stood with heaving breast and dared not strike a blow,
A Negro's voice then cheered the throng, and bade them charge the foe.

His blood was spilled to gain a place in battle's honored roll,
And Crispus Attucks stands a aloof among the heroes bold,
And when we speak of valiant deeds and love of country fair,
We not begrudge his well-bought fame, but place a laurel there.

And in the dark and bloody days, when thick the battle rolled,
And North and South had gathered arms and called each other foes,
A soldier brave upon the field, a faithful slave at home,
He disdaned to mar the name of loved ones left alone.

But as a faithful watch-dog stands and guards with jealous eye,
He watched his master's wife and child and at the door would lie
To shed his blood, if need should rise and one had come to mar
The peace of those whose father went to fight in cruel war.

To-day is hushed the cannon's roar and peace reigns everywhere,
And blessed freedom makes our land the fairest of the fair;
Shall we who helped to make it bloom and blossom as a rose,
Be cast aside, unworthy of a place upon its sod?

We love her and are loyal as the truest of her sons,
For her our blood was shed, for her, so oft our tears have sprung,
We'll strive to have her take her place the first of any land
Stand ready to defend her soil from any alien band.

But God has freed us and to Him we bow in praise to-day,
He'll never leave us nor forsake but will protect alway,
And, conscious of a heart that's true with purpose brave and strong,
We leave our case in those just Hands that can not do a wrong.

'Tis here our eyes beheld the light, and, here at evening's close,
We hope to wrap our mantles 'round and take our last repose,
No politicians should divide relationships divine
No arm should sever friendships formed “in days of auld lang syne.”

'Tis the blessing that we celebrate and not the cause now lost,
For that was dear to other hearts as this can be to us,
And who were right, or who were wrong, we are not here to say,
For—still in death—they're heroes all, the blue, likewise the grey.

And now the din of battle past, they are our friends the same,
Not such as come to get our votes, not friends in only name,
But friends, who deep in honest hearts, but wish our highest joy,
God grant it may ne'er severed be, but last without alloy.

Then let us all with one accord now join the jubilee,
And praise our God the ruler of the new land of the free,
And babes unborn, in future years, will rise to call us great,
For fixing now for coming time “The Day We Celebrate.”