demand,
  To all be freedom given,
That peace and joy may fill the land,
  And songs go up to heaven!

I am an Abolitionist!
  No threats shall awe my soul,
No perils cause me to desist,
  No bribes my acts control;
A freeman will I live and die,
  In sunshine and in shade,
And raise my voice for liberty,
  Of nought on earth afraid.

THE BEREAVED MOTHER.

Air—Kathleen O'More.

O, deep was the anguish of the slave mother's heart,
When called from her darling for ever to part;
So grieved that lone mother, that heart broken mother,
  In sorrow and woe.

The lash of the master her deep sorrows mock,
While the child of her bosom is sold on the block;
Yet loud shrieked that mother, poor heart broken mother,
  In sorrow and woe.

The babe in return, for its fond mother cries,
While the sound of their wailings, together arise;
They shriek for each other, the child and the mother,
  In sorrow and woe.

The harsh auctioneer, to sympathy cold,
Tears the babe from its mother and sells it for gold;
While the infant and mother, loud shriek for each other,
  In sorrow and woe.

At last came the parting of mother and child,
Her brain reeled with madness, that mother was wild;
Then the lash could not smother the shrieks of that mother
  Of sorrow and woe.

The child was borne off to a far distant clime,
While the mother was left in anguish to pine;
But reason departed, and she sank broken hearted,
  In sorrow and woe.

That poor mourning mother, of reason bereft,
Soon ended her sorrows and sank cold in death;
Thus died that slave mother, poor heart broken mother,
  In sorrow and woe.

O, list ye kind mothers to the cries of the slave;
The parents and children implore you to save;
Go! rescue the mothers, the sisters and brothers,
  From sorrow and woe.

THE CHASE.

AIR—Sweet Afton.

Quick, fly to the covert, thou hunted of men!
For the bloodhounds are baying o'er mountain and glen;
The riders are mounted, the loose rein is given,
And curses of wrath are ascending to heaven.
O, speed to thy footsteps! for ruin and death,
Like the hurricane's rage, gather thick round thy path;
And the deep muttered curses grow loud and more loud,
As horse after horse swells the thundering crowd.

Speed, speed, to thy footsteps! thy track has been found;
Now, sport for the rider, and blood for the hound!
Through brake and through forest the man-prey is driven;
O, help for the hopeless, thou merciful Heaven!
On! on to the mountain! they're baffled again,
And hope for the woe-stricken still may remain;
The fast-flagging steeds are all white with their foam,
The bloodhounds have turned from the chase to their home.

Joy! joy to the wronged one! the haven he gains,
Escaped from his thraldom, and freed from his chains!
The heaven-stamped image—the God-given soul—
No more shall the spoiler at pleasure control.
O, shame to Columbia, that on her bright plains,
Man pines in his fetters, and curses his chains!
Shame! shame! that her star-spangled banner should wave
Where the lash is made red in the blood of the slave.

Sons of old Pilgrim Fathers! and are ye thus dumb?
Shall tyranny triumph, and freedom succumb?
While mothers are torn from their children apart,
And agony sunders the cords of the heart?
Shall the sons of those sires that once spurned the chain,
Turn bloodhounds to hunt and make captive again?
O, shame to your honor, and shame to your pride,
And shame on your memory ever abide!

Will not your old sires start up from the ground,
At the crack of the whip, and bay of the hound,
And shaking their skeleton hands in your face,
Curse the germs that produced such a miscreant race?

O, rouse ye for freedom, before on your path
Heaven pours without mixture the vials of wrath!
Loose every hard burden—break off every chain—
Restore to the bondman his freedom again.

FLING OUT THE ANTI-SLAVERY FLAG.

AIR—Auld Lang Syne

Fling out the Anti-slavery flag
  On every swelling breeze;
And let its folds wave o'er the land,
  And o'er the raging seas,
Till all beneath the standard sheet,
  With new allegiance bow;
And pledge themselves to onward bear
  The emblem of their vow.

Fling out the Anti-Slavery flag,
  And let it onward wave
Till it shall float o'er every clime,
  And liberate the slave;
Till, like a meteor flashing far,
  It bursts with glorious light,
And with its Heaven-born rays dispels
  The gloom of sorrow's night.

Fling out the Anti-Slavery flag,
  And let it not be furled,
Till like a planet of the skies,
  It sweeps around the world.
And when each poor degraded slave,
  Is gathered near and far;
O, fix it on the azure arch,
  As hope's eternal star.

Fling out the Anti-Slavery flag,
  Forever let it be
The emblem to a holy cause,
  The banner of the free.
And never from its guardian height,
  Let it by man be driven,
But let it float forever there,
  Beneath the smiles of heaven.

THE YANKEE GIRL.

She sings by her wheel at that low cottage door,
Which the long evening shadow is stretching before;
With a music as sweet as the music which seems
Breathed softly and faintly in the ear of our dreams!

How brilliant and mirthful the light of her eye,
Like a star glancing out from the blue of the sky!
And lightly and freely her dark tresses play
O'er a brow and a bosom as lovely as they!

Who comes in his pride to that low cottage door—
The haughty and rich to the humble and poor?
'Tis the great Southern planter—the master who waves
His whip of dominion o'er hundreds of slaves.

"Nay, Ellen, for shame! Let those Yankee fools spin,
Who would pass for our slaves with a change of their skin;
Let them toil as they will at the loom or the wheel
Too stupid for shame and too vulgar to feel!

"But thou art too lovely and precious a gem
To be bound to their burdens and sullied by them—
For shame, Ellen, shame!—cast thy bondage aside,
And away to the South, as my blessing and pride.

"O, come where no winter thy footsteps can wrong,
But where flowers are blossoming all the year long,
Where the shade of the palm-tree is over my home,
And the lemon and orange are white in their bloom!

"O, come to my home, where my servants shall all
Depart at thy bidding and come at thy call;
They shall heed thee as mistress with trembling and awe,
And each wish of thy heart shall be felt as a law."

O, could ye have seen her—that pride of our girls—
Arise and cast back the