Wake Ye Numbers!
Words by Lewis. Air, "Strike the Cymbals."
Wake ye numbers! from your slumbers,
Hear the song of freedom pour!
By its shaking, fiercely breaking,
Every chain upon our shore.
Flags are waving, all tyrants braving,
Proudly, freely, o'er our plains;
Let no minions check our pinions,
While a single grief remains.
Proud oblations, thou Queen of nations!
Have been poured upon
Afric's bleeding sons and daughters,
Now before us, loud implore us,
Looking to Jehovah's throne,
Chains are wearing, hearts despairing,
Will ye hear a nations moan?
Soothe their sorrow,
ere the morrow
Change their aching hearts to stone:
Then the light of nature's smile
Freedom's realm shall bless the while;
And the pleasure mercy brings
Flow from all her latent springs;
Delight shall spread, shall spread her shining wings,
Daily, nightly, burning brightly,
Glory's pillar fills the air;
Hearts are waking, chains are breaking,
Freedom bids her sons prepare:
O'er the ocean, in proud devotion,
Incense rises to the skies;
From our mountains, o'er our fountains,
See, our Eagle proudly flies!
What deploring impedes his soaring?
Millions still in bondage sighing!
Long in deep oppression lying!
Shall their story mar our glory?
Must their life in sorrow flow?
Tears are falling! fetters galling!
Listen to the cry of woe!
Still oppressing! never blessing!
Shall their grief no ending know?
Yes! our nation yet shall feel;
Time shall break the chain of steel;
Then the slave shall nobly stand;
Peace shall smile with lustre bland;
Glory shall crown our happy land —