yours;
The banner of Jesus will soon be unfurled,
And he will give freedom and peace to the world.

Go under his standard and fight by his side,
O'er mountains and billows you'll then safely ride;
His gracious protection will be to you given,
And bright crowns of glory he'll give you in heaven.

WE'RE COMING! WE'RE COMING.

AIR—Kinloch of Kinloch.

We're coming, we're coming, the fearless and free,
Like the winds of the desert, the waves of the sea!
True sons of brave sires who battled of yore,
When England's proud lion ran wild on our shore!
We're coming, we're coming, from mountain and glen,
With hearts to do battle for freedom again;
Oppression is trembling as trembled before
The slavery which fled from our fathers of yore.

We're coming, we're coming, with banners unfurled,
Our motto is FREEDOM, our country the world;
Our watchword is LIBERTY—tyrants beware!
For the liberty army will bring you despair!
We're coming, we're coming, we'll come from afar,
Our standard we'll nail to humanity's car;
With shoutings we'll raise it, in triumph to wave,
A trophy of conquest, or shroud for the brave.

Then arouse ye, brave hearts, to the rescue come on!
The man-stealing army we'll surely put down;
They are crushing their millions, but soon they must yield,
For freemen have risen and taken the field.
Then arouse ye! arouse ye! the fearless and free,
Like the winds of the desert, the waves of the sea;
Let the north, west, and east, to the sea-beaten shore,
Resound with a liberty triumph once more.

ON TO VICTORY.

AIR—Scots wha hae.

Children of the glorious dead,
Who for freedom fought and bled,
With her banner o'er you spread,
  On to victory.
Not for stern ambition's prize,
Do our hopes and wishes rise;
Lo, our leader from the skies,
  Bids us do or die.

Ours is not the tented field—
We no earthly weapons wield—
Light and love, our sword and shield,
  Truth our panoply.
This is proud oppression's hour;
Storms are round us; shall we cower?
While beneath a despot's power
  Groans the suffering slave?

While on every southern gale,
Comes the helpless captive's tale,
And the voice of woman's wail,
  And of man's despair?
While our homes and rights are dear,
Guarded still with watchful fear,
Shall we coldly turn our ear
  From the suppliant's prayer?

Never! by our Country's shame—
Never! by a Saviour's claim,
To the men of every name,
  Whom he died to save.
Onward, then, ye fearless band—
Heart to heart, and hand to hand;
Yours shall be the patriot's stand,
  Or the martyr's grave.

THE MAN FOR ME.

AIR—The Rose that all are praising.

O, he is not the man for me,
  Who buys or sells a slave,
Nor he who will not set him free,
  But sends him to his grave;
But he whose noble heart beats warm
  For all men's life and liberty;
Who loves alike each human form,
  O, that's the man for me.

He's not at all the man for me,
  Who sells a man for gain,
Who bends the pliant servile knee,
  To Slavery's god of shame!
But he whose God-like form erect
  Proclaims that all alike are free
To think, and speak, and vote, and act,
  O, that's the man for me.

He sure is not the man for me
  Whose spirit will succumb,
When men endowed with Liberty
  Lie bleeding, bound and dumb;
But he whose faithful words of might
  Ring through the land from shore to sea,
For man's eternal equal right,
  O, that's the man for me.

No, no, he's not the man for me
  Whose voice o'er hill and plain,
Breaks forth for glorious liberty,
  But binds himself, the chain!
The mightiest of the noble band
  Who prays and toils the world to free,
With head, and heart, and voice, and vote,
  O, that's the man for me.

THE BONDMAN.

AIR—Troubadour.

Feebly the bondman toiled,
  Sadly he wept—
Then to his wretched cot
  Mournfully crept;
How doth his free-born soul
  Pine 'neath his chain!
Slavery! Slavery!
  Dark is thy reign.

Long ere the break of day,
  Roused from repose,
Wearily toiling
  Till after its close—
Praying for freedom,
  He spends his last breath:
Liberty! Liberty!
  Give me or death.

When, when, O Lord! will right
  Triumph o'er wrong?
Tyrants oppress the weak,
  O Lord! how long?
Hark! hark! a peal resounds
  From shore to shore—
Tyranny! Tyranny!
  Thy reign is o'er.

E'en now the morning
  Gleams from the East—
Despots are feeling
  Their triumph is past—
Strong hearts are answering
  To freedom's loud call—
Liberty! Liberty!
  Full and for all.

RIGHT ON.

AIR—Lenox.

Ho! children of the brave,
  Ho! freemen of the land,
That hurl'd into the grave
  Oppression's bloody band;
Come on, come on, and joined be we
To make the fettered bondman free.

Let coward vassals sneak
  From freedom's battle still,
Poltroons that dare not speak
  But as their priests may will;
Come on, come on, and joined be we
To make the fettered bondman free.

On parchment, scroll and creed,
  With human life blood red,
Untrembling at the deed,
  Plant firm your manly tread;
The priest may howl, the jurist rave,
But we will free the fettered slave.

The tyrant's scorn is vain,
  In vain the slanderer's breath,
We'll rush to break the chain,
  E'en on the jaws of death;
Hurrah! Hurrah! right on go we,
The fettered slave shall yet be free.

Right on, in freedom's name,
  And in the strength of God,
Wipe out the damning stain,
  And break the oppressor's rod;
Hurrah! Hurrah! right on go we,
The fettered slave shall yet be free.

FUGITIVE'S TRIUMPH.

Go, go, thou that enslav'st me,
  Now, now thy power is o'er;
Long, long have I obeyed thee,
  I'm not a slave any more;
    No, no—oh, no!
I'm a free man ever more!

Thou, thou brought'st me ever,
  Deep, deep sorrow and pain;
But I have left thee forever,
  Nor will I serve thee again;
    No, no—oh, no!
No, I'll not serve thee again.

Tyrant! thou hast bereft me
  Home, friends, pleasures so sweet;
Now, forever I've left thee,
  Thou and I never shall meet;
    No, no—oh, no!
Thou and I never shall meet.

Joys, joys, bright as the