Go forth 'mongst strong and weak,
The aid of all invoke.
O, thou wilt have much woe,
Tossed on a sea of strife,
Hunted by many a foe
Eager to take thy life.
Perchance thou 'It have to brook
The taunts of bond and free,
The cold, disdainful look
Of men—less men than thee.
We feel thy soul will rise
Superior to it all;
For thou hast heard the cries,
And drained the cup of gall.
Thine eyes have wept the tears
Which tyrants taught to flow,
While craven scorn and sneers
Fell with the shameful blow.
And now that thou art come
To Freedom's blessed land,
Thou broodest on thy home
And Slavery's hateful brand.
Thou thinkest thou canst hear
Three million voices call;
They raise to thee their prayer,—
Haste, help to break their thrall!
Say, wilt thou have, thy steps to guard,
Some powerful spell or charm?
Then listen to thy sister's word,
Nor fear thou hurt or harm.
When shines the North Star, cold and bright,
Cheer thou thy heart, lift up thy head!
Feel, as thou look'st upon its light,
That blessings on its beams are shed!
For rich, and poor, and bond, and free,
Will also gaze and pray for thee.
