English

It is thine hour, America.
No word but thine can lift this curse;
It is thy moment to fulfill
Thine errand in the universe,
Ambassador of that great Will
That herds and holds the stars in space
And guides the human race.
Speakest of precedent or creed
When higher forces urge thy fate?
All man-made edicts, soon or late,
Must yield before the larger need
That spells the future's right.
Be thine the hand to lift the light,
Be thine the arm to strike the blow
That severs human hate from hate;

Fled are the summer hours of joy and love!
The brilliant season of delight is o'er
Alone mid leafless woods I silent rove
The voice so dear enchants these bowers no more!
Yet sweet the stillness of this calm retreat,
As toward the sunny bank I pensive stray,
The muse affords her consolations sweet,
And sooths with memory's charms my lonely way—
Here led by Flora o'er the pathless wild
I woo sweet Nature in her private haunts
The rarer flower which long neglected smiled
My curious eye unspeakably enchants—

I stopped to hear it clear,
The sound of water tinkling near,
Although I knew no dowser could
Turn hazel-fork in that beech-wood.

Then on the high tree-tops
With rising runs and jerks and stops
Like water stones break into bits
Flowed the cascade of long-tailed tits.

When Collin's tuneful pipe with soft'ning strains,
Fill'd with melodious sounds the neighb'ring plains;
The nightingale responsive, in the grove
Sung her sweet lay, and tun'd my heart to love:
But absent now from all that's to me dear,
A charm in Music I no longer hear.

Where are the joys the early seasons bring?
For herds the grass, for bees the flowers spring;
The black-birds sing on ev'ry blooming thorn,
And fresh'ning daisies ev'ry vale adorn:
In vain the spring for me adorns the plains,

Oh Lawd, I jes come from de fountain, Lawd,
Jes come from de fountain,
His name so sweet.

Po' sinnuh, do you love Jesus?
Yes, yes, I do love mah Jesus.
Sinnuh, do you love Jesus?
His name so sweet.

Class leader, do you love Jesus?

'Sidin' elder, do you love Jesus?

Don't you view dat ship a-come a-sailin'? Hallelujah.

Dat ship is heavy loaded, Hallelujah.

She neither reels nor totters, Hallelujah.

She is loaded wid-a bright angels, Hallelujah

Oh, how do you know dey are angels? Hallelujah.

I know dem by a de'r mournin', Hallelujah.

Oh, yonder comes my Jesus, Hallelujah

Oh, how do you know it is Jesus? Hallelujah.

I know him by-a his shinin', Hallelujah.

'Tis strange, profanely strange, but men will stand
Upon some spot of blighted happiness,
Where the Omnipotent's mysterious hand
Has fallen with disaster and distress,
And they, perchance, will question His just laws,
Wax grave, and sigh, and look demurely wise,
As if, poor fools! they could arraign the Cause,
And see with Wisdom's never-failing eyes!
But let them saunter o'er a battle-plain,
Still red and reeking from the recent strife,
Where, spurred by lust of conquest and of gain,
Relentless heels have trod out human life,

Rev. Francis Asbury:
Saturday night! How the forest wind raves!
Call in for prayers the people and slaves:
Ere breaks the Sabbath let Christians be grim—
What is that singing? What is that hymn?

Song from the Kitchen:
“Kitty Cazier! Save me a rose!
That in thy casement or bright bosom grows;
'Twould smell of thee, sweetheart so dear,
Out in the snowdrift, Kitty Cazier!”

Mr. Asbury:
Sister, is not that a hymn of the war?
Oh, this Rebellion! It's near and it's far!
Wesley's poor soldiers are hermits abhorred—

Right happy is the man
Who treats the world as vain,
Compar'd with joys that Christians know,
Whose soul, redeem'd by blood,
And made alive to God,
The earnest feels of heaven below.

When the last trumpet's sound
Alarms creation round,
'Tis heart will glow with calm desire;
Such solid joy and peace
He knows, as will not cease
When earth dissolves in liquid fire.

His mansion-house will stand
When all the solid land
Links with the weight of wrath divine;
When darkness veils the skies,

Well may the pure Philanthropist complain
Of Barbarism's rude, protracted reign;
Well may he yearn to curb its savage sway,
When insult galls him on the public way;
When every human haunt, in every hour,
Can furnish proofs of a degrading power,—
Where lewd deportment and unpolished jeer
Offend the eye, and jar upon the ear,
And beings, fashioned by a Power benign,
Seem to forget their Maker's hand divine.
Turn to the city, and let Truth declare
How much of what we mourn is centred there;
At every step how many evils greet