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5. With a rush, as of a thousand steeds,

Is the mighty god's descent;
Beneath the weight of his passing tread,

The conscious groves are bent.
His heavy tread, —it is lighter now,

And yet it passeth on;
And now it is up, with a sudden lift:

The pleasant rain hath gone.
6. The pleasant rain! the pleasant rain!

It hath pass'd above the earth;
I see the smile of the opening cloud,

Like the parted lips of mirth. .
The golden joy is spreading wide

Along the blushing west,
And the happy earth gives back her smiles,

Like the glow of a grateful breast.
7. As a blessing sinks in a grateful heart,

That knoweth all its need,
So came the good of the pleasant rain

O'er hill and verdant mead.
It shall breathe this truth on the human ear,

In hall and cotter's home:
That, to bring the gift of a bounteous heaven,

The pleasant rain bath come.




1. SET up a standard in the land; blow a trumpet upon the mountains; let not the shepherd tarry by his sheepfold, nor the seedsman continue in the plowed field; but make the watch strong, sharpen the arrows, burnish the shields; name ye the captains of thousands, and captains of hundreds, of fifties, and of tens; call the footmen like the rushing of winds, and cause the horsemen to come up like the sound of many waters; for the passages of the destroyers are stopped, their rods are burned, and the face of their men of battle hath been turned to flight.

2. Heaven has been with you, and has broken the bow of the mighty; then let every man's heart be as the heart of the valiant Maccabeus,-every man's hand as the hand of the mighty Samson,-every man's sword as that of Gideon, which turned not back from the slaughter; for the banner of reformation is spread abroad in the mountains in its first loveliness, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. Well is he this day that shall barter his house for a helmet, and sell his garment for a sword, and cast in his lot with the children of the covenant, even to the fulfilling of the promise; and woe, woe unto him who, for carnal ends and self-seeking, shall with hold himself from the great work, for the curse shall abide with him,-even the bitter curse of Meroz, because he came not to the help of the Lord against the mighty

3. Up, then, and be doing! The blood of martyrs, reeking upon scaffolds, is crying for vengeance; the bones of saints, which lie whitening in the highways, are pleading for retribution; the groans of innocent captives from desolate isles of the sea, and from the dungeons of the tyrants' high places, cry for deliverance; the prayers of persecuted Christians, sheltering themselves in dens and deserts from the swords of their persecutors, famished with hunger, starving with cold, lacking fire, food, shelter, and clothing, because they serve God rather than man,-all are with you, pleading, watching, knocking, storming the gates of Heaven in


behalf. 4. Heaven itself shall fight for you, as the stars in their courses fought against Sisera. Then, whoso will deserve immortal fame in this world, and eternal happiness in that which is to come, let them enter into God's service, and take arles at the hand of his servant,-a blessing, namely, upon him and his household, and his children to the ninth generation, even the blessing of the promise, forever and ever.




1. OLD Tubal Cain was a man of might,

In the days when earth was young:
By the fierce red light of his furnace bright

The strokes of his hammer rung:
And he lifted high his brawny hand

On the iron glowing clear,

Till the sparks rush'd out in scarlet showers,

As he fashion'd the sword and spear.
And he sang, (P5) “HURRAH for my handiwork!

HURRAH for the spear and the sword !
Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well,

For he shall be king and lord !” 2. To Tubal Cain came many a one,

As he wrought by his roaring fire;
And each one pray'd for a strong steel blade,

As the crown of his desire:
And he made them weapons sharp and strong,

Till they shouted loud for glee,
And gave him gifts of pearl and gold,

And spoils of the forest free.
And they sang, (P5) “HURRAH for Tubal Cain,

Who hath given us strength anew!
HURRAH for the smith, HURRAH for the fire,

And HURRAH for the metal true!"

3. But a sudden change came o'er his heart,

Ere the setting of the sun;
And Tubal Cain was filled with pain

For the evil he had done:
He saw that


and hate,
Made war upon their kind,
That the land was red with the blood they shed,

In their lust for carnage blind.
And he said, (paf3) “Alas that ever I made,

Or that skill of mine should plan,
The spear and the sword for men whose joy

Is to slay their fellow-man!"

4. And for many a day old Tubal Cain

Sat brooding o'er his woe,
And his hand forbore to smite the ore,

And his furnace smolder'd low.
But he rose at last with a cheerful face,

And a bright courageous eye,
And bared his strong right arm for work,

While the quick flames mounted high.
And he sang, (ps) “HURRAH for my

handiwork !" And the red sparks lit the air; “Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made."

And he fashion'd the first plowshare.

5. And men, taught wisdom from the past,

In friendship join'd their hands,
Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall,

And plow'd the willing lands,
And sang, (05) “HURRAH for Tubal Cain!

Our stanch good friend is he;
And for the plowsbare and the plow

To him our praise shall be.
But while oppression lifts its head,

Or a tyrant would be lord,
Though we may thank him for the PLOW,

We'll not forget the SWORD !"




1. We may betray the trust reposed in us; we may most miserably defeat the fond hopes entertained of us. We may become the scorn of tyrants and the jest of slaves. From our fate, oppression may assume a bolder front of insolence, and its victims sink into a darker despair

2. In that event, how unspeakable will be our disgrace! with what weight of mountains will the infamy lie upon our souls ! The gulf of our ruin will be as deep, as the elevation we might have attained is high How wilt thou fall from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! Our beloved country with ashes for beauty; the golden cord of our union broken; its scattered fragments presenting every form of misrule, from the wildest anarchy to the most ruthless despotism; our "soil drenched with fraternal blood;" the life of man stripped of its grace and dignity; the prizes of honor gone, and virtue divorced from half its encouragements and supports: these are gloomy pictures, which I would not invite your imaginations to dwell upon, but only to glance at, for the sake of the waraing lessons we may draw from them

3. Remember that we can have none of those consolations which sustain the patriot who mourns over the undeserved misfortunes of his country. Our Rome cannot fall, and we be innocept. No conqueror will chain us to the car of his triumph; no countless swarm of Huns and Goths will bury the memorials and trophies of civilized life beneath a living tide of barbarism. Our own selfishness, our own neglect, our own passions, and our own vices, will furnish the elements of our destruction.

With our own hands we shall tear down the stately edifice of our glory. We shall die by self-inflicted wounds.

4. But we will not talk of themes like these. We will not think of failure, dishonor, and despair. We will elevate our minds to the contemplation of our high duties, and the great trust committed to us. We will resolve, to lay the foundations of our prosperity on that rock of private virtue which cannot be shaken until the laws of the moral world are reversed. From our own breasts shall flow the salient springs of national increase. Then our success, our happiness, our glory, is inevitable. We may calmly smile at all the croakings of all the ravens, whether of native or foreign breed.

5. The whole will not grow weak by the increase of its parts. Our growth will be like that of the mountain oak, which strikes its roots more deeply into the soil, and clings to it with a closer grasp, as its lofty head is exalted and its broad arms stretched out. The loud burst of joy and gratitude which this, the anniversary of our independence, is breaking from the full hearts of a mighty people, will never cease to be heard. No chasms of sullen silence will interrupt its course; no discordant notes of sectional madness mar the general harmony. Year after year will increase it, by tributes from now unpeopled solitudes. The farthest West shall hear it and rejoice; the Oregon shall swell it with the voice of its waters; the Rocky Mountains shall fling back the glad sound from their snowy crests.





DR. JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE was born in the city of New York in 1795, and died in 1820. 1. WHEN Freedom, from her mountain-hight,

Unfurl'd her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,

And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,

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