Classic Poem

Hail to the brightness of Freedom's glad morning!
Join, all the earth! in an anthem of praise;
Day—joyful day—in its glory is dawning,
Light is dispensing its soul-cheering rays.
See, how 'tis gilding those isles of the ocean!
Hark to the echoing songs of their joy!
Brighter is burning the flame of devotion,
Music far sweeter the angels employ.

Thousands, long buried in deep degradation,
Rise to the sphere which their Maker assign'd;
Bearing glad triumph to God's free salvation,
Sent from above, by “good will to mankind.”
Now may the Gospel exert its dominion
Over the beings now treated as men;
Borne from the dust upon Freedom's blest pinion,
God may behold his own image again.

Joy to those Islands! the cloud has pass'd o'er them,
Brightly the rain-bow encircles the skies;
Heaven is smiling, and spreads out before them,
Fadeless and pure, its own glorious prize.
When will our land thus arouse from its slumber,
And be deliver'd from tyranny's stain?
When will redemption reach all that vast number,
Fetter'd so long by dark Slavery's chain?

Speed on, thou herald of freedom! Oh! hasten
Such a proud era for us to proclaim;
Fain to those tidings of joy would we listen,
Fain would we witness the conqueror's fame.
Hail, then, thrice hail to this glorious morning!
Hail to the myriads from bondage releas'd;
Hope's gilded beams, the horizon adorning,
Tell us the night of oppression hath ceas'd.