Classic Poem

Sung at a Festival of the Free Religious Association.

Thou , whose name is blazoned forth
On our banner's gleaming fold,
Freedom! thou whose sacred worth
Never yet has half been told,
Often have we sung of thee,
Dear to us as dear can be.

But to-night we sing of one
Older, graver far, than thou;
With the seal of time begun
Stamped upon her awful brow:
Freedom, latest born of time,
Knowest thou her form sublime?

She is Duty: in her hand
Is a sceptre heaven-brought;
Hers the accent of command,
Hers the dreadful, mystic Ought;
Hers upon us all to lay
Heavier burdens every day.

But her bondage is so sweet!
And her burdens make us strong;
Wings they seem to weary feet,
Laughter to our lips and song:
Freedom, make us free to speed
Wheresoever she may lead.