A National Anthem for Liberia in Africa. 195

Come, -with peace and to all good-will;
Yet ready to combat for insult or ill,-

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Come, with the trumpet, the sword, and the spear, For "love of liberty brought us here!"

Thanks unto GOD! who hath broken the chain
That bound us as slaves on the Western main;
Thanks, white brothers! Oh, thanks sincere,
Whose "love for liberty brought us here!"

Yes,-ye have rescued us as from the grave,
And a freeman made of the desperate slave,
That ye may call him both brother and peer,
For "love of liberty brought us here!"

Thanks! O raise that shout once more,-
Thanks! let it thrill Liberia's shore,-
Thanks! while we our standard rear,
"The love of liberty brought us here!

Thine, Columbia, thine was the hand
That set us again on our own dear land,
We will remember thee far or near,
For "love of liberty brought us here!"

Yes, Liberia! freemen gave

Freedom and Thee to the ransom'd slave; Then out with a shout both loud and clear, "Love of liberty brought us here!"

The Liberian Beacon.

of

A thousand miles of rugged shore,
And not a lighthouse seen?
Alas, the thousand years yore
That such a shame hath been!
Alas, that Afric's darkling race,
The savages and slaves,

Never have known the gleam of grace
On their Atlantic waves!

Never-till Now! O glorious light,

The beacon is ablaze!

And half the terrors of the night
Are scatter'd by its rays!

Forth from the starry-heaven'd West

Was lit this glowing torch, For, dear Columbia's sons have blest Liberia with-a Church!

Yes, young Columbia leads the way,
And shows our hard old world
How slavery in the sight of day
Can wisest be downhurl'd;
Not by the bloody hand of power
That mangles while it frees,
But by Religion's calmer hour,
And Freedom of the seas!

Yes, brothers! Patience is the word,—
And Prudence in your zeal :

Where these sweet angels well are heard
They work the common weal:

The North must wait; the South be wise;
And both unite in love

To help the slave beneath the skies
Who is no slave above!

The Liberian Church.

A SONNET.

Rot freedom only be Liberia's boast,-
Nor chiefly, Africa, thy sons return'd
To those dear palmy plains and tropic coast

For which so long in alien climes they yearn'd:
No!-but a blessing, to be sought the most
Wherever men for truest treasure search,
Shall be thy praise, Liberia!-lo, at length,
As in St. Cyprian's day, a Christian Church
With its Apostle stands in holy strength,

A new-lit beacon on poor Afric's shore; And round it now the darkling heathen throng, And Ethiopia's outstretch'd hands implore Of thee, Salvation's hallow'd gospel song, Of thee, Liberia, blest for evermore.

Africa's Self-Blockade.

Sister, we are not slow to learn of thee

How best to compass good; how best to pour
Freedom and health, as on Liberia's shore,
Along the skirt of Afric's Western sea;
Sister Columbia, wiser than of yore
We love in all things generous to agree!
And, well content if blessing so may be

To the poor darkling slave, a slave no more,
Frankly we haste to fringe the sea-board thus
With homes and fields of freemen: glad to win
Around the standards rear'd by thee and us,
Body and soul, the rescued sons of sin

From both worlds' doom of wretchedest and worst,
Through us no more benighted nor accurst!

Africa Redeemed.

day-star of promise!-O dawning of hope
On Africa's night of despair!

O Wisdom's own way with the sorrows to cope
That seem'd so incurable there!

Liberia, thou art the breach in the wall
Of Slavery's tower of strength;
And Africa's Moloch shall totter and fall
Through Africa's children at length!

In prayer was she plann'd, and by charity blest,
And Patience, who smiled on her birth,
Baptized her in blood of the bravest and best
That ever were heroes on earth!

Let red Mesurado tell out the stern wills
That fought for each inch of her soil,
And Ashmun, and Wilson, and Cary, and Mills,
Be stars on her midnight of toil!

And-what is she now? Though the world may think scorn

Of all that is humbly begun,

Yet here of true wisdom true greatness is born,

And here shall true glory be won!

For CHRIST and His mercies come in by this door,
Poor Africa's heart to make whole,
To scatter her foes and her fears evermore,
And ransom her, body and soul!

Liberia to America.

Foster-mother, shrewd and stern,

Favour yet thy sable child!

Graciously and frankly turn

With a heart well reconciled:

Be not thou the last to bid

Africa's young Hope God-speed,

Let not all thy love be hid

From thy daughter's day of need!