land of your birth,
Held down by his hand,
And crushed to the earth.
Chorus.

My religion is pure,
And came from above,
But I cannot consent
The black negro to love.
Chorus.

It is true there is judgment
That hangs o'er the land,
But 't will all turn aside,
When you follow the plan.
Chorus.

You're ignorant I know,
In this land of your birth,
And religion though pure,
Cannot move the curse.
Chorus.

But only consent,
Though extorted by force,
What a blessing you'll prove,
On the African coast.
Chorus.

I AM AN ABOLITIONIST.

AIR--Auld Lang Syne.

I am an Abolitionist!
I glory in the name:
Though now by Slavery's minions hiss'd
And covered o'er with shame,
It is a spell of light and power--
The watchword of the free:--
Who spurns it in the trial-hour,
A craven soul is he!

I am an Abolitionist!
Then urge me not to pause;
For joyfully do I enlist
In FREEDOM'S sacred cause:
A nobler strife the world ne'er saw,
Th' enslaved to disenthral;
I am a soldier for the war,
Whatever may befall!

I am an Abolitionist!
Oppression's deadly foe;
In God's great strength will I resist,
And lay the monster low;
In God's great name do I 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