They sprinkled stars upon each fold,
And gave it as a trust to you;
And now that glorious banner waves
In shame above three millions slaves.

O, by the virtues of our sires,
And by the soil on which they trod,
And by the trust their name inspires,
And by the hope we have in God,
Arouse, my country, and agree
To set thy captive children free.

Arouse! and let each hill and glen
With prayer to the high heavens ring out,
Till all our land with freeborn men,
May join in one triumphant shout,
That freedom's banner does not wave
Its folds above a single slave.



YOUR BROTHER IS A SLAVE.


O weep, ye friends of Freedom, weep!
Shout liberty no more;
Your harps to mournful measures sweep,
Till slavery's reign is o'er.
O, furl your star-lit thing of light--
That banner should not wave