Two Choruses of the Time

We see not, know not; all our way
Is night, -- with Thee alone is day
From out the torrent's troubled drift,
Above the storm our prayers we lift,
Thy will be done!

The flesh may fail, the heart may faint,
But who are we to make complaint,
Or dare to plead, in times like these,
The weakness of our love of ease?
Thy will be done!

 ... 

If, for the age to come, this hour
Of trial hath vicarious power,
And, blest by Thee, our present pain,
Be Liberty's eternal gain,
Thy will be done!

Strike, Thou the Master, we Thy keys,
The anthem of the destinies!
The minor of Thy loftier strain,
Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain,
Thy will be done!

O Thou, whose presence went before
Our fathers in their weary way,
As with Thy chosen moved of yore
The fire by night the cloud by day!

 ... 

Thy children all though hue and form
Are varied in Thine own good will
With Thy own holy breathings warm,
And fashioned in Thine image still.

We thank Thee, Father! hill and plain
Around us wave their fruits once more,
And clustered vine, and blossomed grain,
Are bending round each cottage door.

 ... 

But oh, for those this day can bring,
As unto us, no joyful thrill
For those who, under Freedom s wing,
Are bound in Slavery s fetters still!

 ... 

For broken heart, and clouded mind,
Whereon no human mercies fall
Oh, be Thy gracious love inclined,
Who, as a father, pitiest all!

Oh grant, Oh Father! that the time
Of Earth s deliverance may be near,
When every land, and tongue, and clime,
The message of Thy love shall hear.

When, smitten as with fire from heaven,
The captive's chain shall sink in dust,
And to his fettered soul be given
The glorious freedom of the just!