f flesh and blood secure?

Is water running in our veins? Do we remember still
Old Plymouth rock, and Lexington, and glorious Bunker Hill?
The debt we owe our Father's graves? and to the yet unborn,
Whose heritage ourselves must make a thing of pride or scorn?

Grey Plymouth rock hath yet a tongue, and Concord is not dumb,
And voices from our father's graves, and from the future come;
They call on us to stand our ground, they charge us still to be
Not only free from chains ourselves, but foremost to make free!

Awake, New England! While you sleep the foes advance their lines;
Already on your stronghold's wall their bloody banner shines;
Awake! and hurl them back again in terror and despair,
The time has come for earnest deeds, we've not a man to spare.

RISE, FREEMEN, RISE.

Music by G.W.C.

[Music]

Rise, freemen rise! the call goes forth,
Attend the high command;
Obedience to the word of God,
Throughout this guilty land:
Throughout this guilty land.

Rise, free the slave; oh, burst his chains,
And cast his fetters down;
Let virtue be your country's pride,
Her diadem and crown.

Then shall the day at length arrive,
When all shall equal be,
And Freedom's banner, waving high,
Proclaim that all are free.

Remember Me.

O Thou, from whom all goodness flows!
I lift my heart to thee;
In all my wrongs, oppressions, woes,
Dear Lord! remember me.

Afflictions sore obstruct my way,
And ills I cannot flee;
Lord! let my strength be as my day,
And still remember me.

Oppressed with scourges, bonds, and grief,
This feeble body see;
Oh! give my burdened soul relief,
Hear, and remember me.

A BEACON HAS BEEN LIGHTED.

Parody by G.W.C. Air, "Blue-eyed Mary."

[Music]

A beacon has been lighted,
Bright as the noonday sun;
On worlds of mind benighted,
Its rays are pouring down;
Full many a shrine of error,
And many a deed of shame,
Dismayed, has shrunk in terror,
Before the lighted flame.

Chorus.

Victorious, on, victorious!
Proud beacon onward haste;
Till floods of light all glorious,
Illume the moral waste.

Oppression foul has foundered,
The demon gasps for breath;
His rapid march is downward,
To everlasting death.
Old age and youth united,
His works shall prostrate hurl,
And soon himself, affrighted,
Shall hurry from this world.
Victorious, on, victorious, &c.

Proud liberty untiring,
Strikes at