Related quotes: VOICE of a people suffering...

The Jubilee Singers

VOICE of a people suffering long,
The pathos of their mournful song,
The sorrow of their night of wrong!
Their cry like that which Israel gave,
A prayer for one to guide and save,
Like Moses by the Red Sea's wave!
The Stern accord her timbrel lent
To Miriam's note of triumph sent
O'er Egypt's sunken armament!
The tramp that startled camp and town,
And shook the walls of slavery down,
The spectral march of old John Brown!
The storm that swept through battle-days,
The triumph after long delays,
The bondmen giving God the praise!
Voice of a ransomed race, sing on
Till Freedom's every right is won,
And slavery's every wrong undone!

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Song of Freedom - A Prayer Reflection on Mee Kamocha

When did we leave Egypt
And when did Egypt leave us?
When were the chains of slavery broken
And when did we finally truly feel free?

Freedom came in steps
It was part of the journey
From Egypt to Canaan
Our people took
And we can still take.

Freedom is courage and hope and clear vision
Freedom is walking to places we can’t see
Freedom in knowing that we can find food in the desert
Freedom is feeling safe though our houses are booths.
Freedom is choosing good rules to live by
And freedom is singing our very own song.

So with Moses and Miriam and all those who went with them
With all those before us who brought us to today
We still sing these words, our first words of freedom
'Freedom is having no sovereign but God.”

10/12/2003

poem by Lewis Eron
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The Bondman

Feebly the bondman toiled,
Sadly he wept-
Then to his wretched cot
Mournfully crept;
How doth his free-born soul
Pine 'neath his chain!
Slavery! Slavery!
Dark is thy reign.

Long ere the break of day,
Roused from repose,
Wearily toiling
Till after its close-
Praying for freedom,
He spends his last breath:
Liberty! Liberty!
Give me or death.

When, when, O Lord! will right
Triumph o'er wrong?
Tyrants oppress the weak,
O Lord! how long?
Hark! hark! a peal resounds
From shore to shore-
Tyranny! Tyranny!
Thy reign is o'er.

E'en now the morning
Gleams from the East-
Despots are feeling
Their triumph is past-
Strong hearts are answering
To freedom's loud call-
Liberty! Liberty!
Full and for all.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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To Canaan

A PURITAN WAR SONG

WHERE are you going, soldiers,
With banner, gun, and sword?
We 're marching South to Canaan
To battle for the Lord
What Captain leads your armies
Along the rebel coasts?
The Mighty One of Israel,
His name is Lord of Hosts!
To Canaan, to Canaan
The Lord has led us forth,
To blow before the heathen walls
The trumpets of the North!

What flag is this you carry
Along the sea and shore?
The same our grandsires lifted up,--
The same our fathers bore
In many a battle's tempest
It shed the crimson rain,--
What God has woven in his loom
Let no man rend in twain!
To Canaan, to Canaan
The Lord has led us forth,
To plant upon the rebel towers
The banners of the North!

What troop is this that follows,
All armed with picks and spades?
These are the swarthy bondsmen,--
The iron-skin brigades!
They'll pile up Freedom's breastwork,
They 'LL scoop out rebels' graves;
Who then will be their owner
And march them off for slaves?
To Canaan, to Canaan
The Lord has led us forth,
To strike upon the captive's chain
The hammers of the North!

What song is this you're singing?
The same that Israel sung
When Moses led the mighty choir,
And Miriam's timbrel rung!
To Canaan! To Canaan!
The priests and maidens cried:
To Canaan! To Canaan!
The people's voice replied.
To Canaan, to Canaan
The Lord has led us forth,
To thunder through its adder dens
The anthems of the North.

When Canaan's hosts are scattered,
And all her walls lie flat,
What follows next in order?
The Lord will see to that
We'll break the tyrant's sceptre,--
We 'll build the people's throne,--
When half the world is Freedom's,
Then all the world's our own
To Canaan, to Canaan
The Lord has led us forth,
To sweep the rebel threshing-floors,
A whirlwind from the North.

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Emotional Subjection

There is no tyrant quite like feeling.
A bondage that cannot be released.
All we do will forever succumb to it.
Your suffering means that you're human.

Your mind is a warfield.
And your heart is the opposition.
No solution can truly be found.
Forever at war with yourself.

You will obey.
You will cry for it.
You will fall to your knees for it.
You will be numbed by it.
You will be reminded of it.
It cannot be neglected much longer.

Slavery is freedom.
Slavery is freedom.
Slavery is freedom.
Slavery is freedom.
You will obey.

poem by Aaron Lynn
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At Port Royal

The tent-lights glimmer on the land,
The ship-lights on the sea;
The night-wind smooths with drifting sand
Our track on lone Tybee.

At last our grating keels outslide,
Our good boats forward swing;
And while we ride the land-locked tide,
Our negroes row and sing.

For dear the bondman holds his gifts
Of music and of song:
The gold that kindly Nature sifts
Among his sands of wrong;

The power to make his toiling days
And poor home-comforts please;
The quaint relief of mirth that plays
With sorrow's minor keys.

Another glow than sunset's fire
Has filled the West with light,
Where field and garner, barn and byre,
Are blazing through the night.

The land is wild with fear and hate,
The rout runs mad and fast;
From hand to hand, from gate to gate,
The flaming brand is passed.

The lurid glow falls strong across
Dark faces broad with smiles;
Not theirs the terror, hate, and loss
That fire yon blazing piles.

With oar-strokes timing to their song,
They weave in simple lays
The pathos of remembered wrong,
The hope of better days,—

The triumph-note that Miriam sung,
The joy of uncaged birds:
Softening with Afric's mellow tongue
Their broken Saxon words.

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Sing a New Song

O sing a new song, to our God above,
Avoid profane ones, 'tis for holy choir:
Let Israel sing song of holy love
To him that made them, with their hearts on fire:
Let Zion's sons life up their voice, and sing
Carols and anthems to their heavenly king.

Let not your voice alone his praise forth tell,
But move withal, and praise him in the dance;
Cymbals and harps, let them be tuned well,
'Tis he that doth the poor's estate advance:
Do this not only on the solemn days,
But on your secret beds you spirits raise.

O let the saints bear in their mouth his praise,
And a two-edged sword drawn in their hand,
Therewith for to revenge the former days,
Upon all nations, that their zeal withstand;
To bind their kings in chains of iron strong,
And manacle their nobles for their wrong.

Expect the time, for 'tis decreed in heaven,
Such honor shall unto his saints be given.

poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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Its Wrong Apartheid

The wretchedness of satans wrath
Will come to seize you at last
cause even he frowns upon the deeds you are doing
And you know deep in your heart
Youve no covenant with god
cause he would never countenance people abusing
You know apartheids wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like slavery was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like the holocaust was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Apartheid is wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong
Its wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
The pain you cause in gods name
Points only to yourself to blame
For the negative karma you will be receiving
cause when people are oppressed
With atrocities that test
The future of all mankind we, the world wont stand seeing
You know apartheids wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like slavery was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like the holocaust was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Apartheid is wrong (qha), its wrong (qha), wrong
Its wrong (qha), its wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Ubuqaba babo bucacile
Woqamba kuze kucace
Ngoba nosathane uyabugxeka
Lobuqaba
Oh, freedom is coming
(inkululeko iyeza)
Say it again
(inkululeko iyeza)
Hold on tight, its coming
(qinisani inkululeko iyeza)
(inkululeko iyeza)
Oh, the whole world is with us
(qinisani umhlaba wonke unathi)
Say it again
(umhlaba wonke unathi)
Hold on tight, cause were with you
(qinisani umhlaba wonke unathi)
(umhlaba wonke unathi)
Oh, oh, oh, freedom is coming, yeah, yeah, yeah,
(qinisani inkululeko iyeza)
(inkululeko iyeza)
Hold on tight, yeah
(qinisani inkululeko iyeza)
Freedom is coming
(inkululeko iyeza)
Hold on tight
(qinisani)

song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Watcher on the Tower

I
The Voice of a Man

WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?

The Voice of a Woman

Yea, what of it?

The Watcher

A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

But God is there above it.

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

II
Voice of the Man

What of the Night, O Watcher?

Voice of the Woman

Night of sorrow!

The Watcher

Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

Have courage! There’s To-morrow!

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

III
Voice of the Man

What of the Night, O Watcher?

Voice of the Woman

Is it other?

The Watcher

I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

The Morning comes, my Brother.

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

IV
Voice of the Man

What now, what now, O Watcher?

The Watcher

Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.

Voice of the Man

The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?

Voice of the Woman

The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Go Down Moses

Chorus sings:go down moses
Way down in egypt land
Tell all pharaoes to
Let my people go!
Armstrong:
When israel was in egypt land...
Let my people go!
Oppressed so hard they could not stand...
Let my people go!
So the God seyeth: go down, moses
Way down in egypt land
Tell all pharaoes to
Let my people go!
So moses went to egypt land...
Let my people go!
He made all pharaoes understand...
Let my people go!
Yes the lord said go down, moses
Way down in egypt land
Tell all pharaoes to
Let my people go!
Thus spoke the lord, bold moses said:
-let my people go!
if not Ill smite, your firstborns dead
-let my people go!
God-the lord said go down, moses
Way down in egypt land
Tell all pharaoes to
Let my people go!
Tell all pharaoes
To
Let my people go

song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Laus Deo

It is done!
Clang of bell and roar of gun
Send the tidings up and down.
How the belfries rock and reel!
How the great guns, peal on peal,
Fling the joy from town to town!

Ring, O bells!
Every stroke exulting tells
Of the burial hour of crime.
Loud and long, that all may hear,
Ring for every listening ear
Of Eternity and Time!

Let us kneel:
God's own voice is in that peal,
And this spot is holy ground.
Lord, forgive us! What are we
That our eyes this glory see,
That our ears have heard this sound!

For the Lord
On the whirlwind is abroad;
In the earthquake He has spoken;
He has smitten with His thunder
The iron walls asunder,
And the gates of brass are broken!

Loud and long
Lift the old exulting song;
Sing with Miriam by the sea,
He has cast the mighty down;
Horse and rider sink and drown;
'He hath triumphed gloriously!'

Did we dare,
In our agony of prayer,
Ask for more than He has done?
When was ever His right hand
Over any time or land
Stretched as now beneath the sun?

How they pale,
Ancient myth and song and tale,
In this wonder of our days
When the cruel rod of war
Blossoms white with righteous law,
And the wrath of man is praise!

Blotted out!
All within and all about
Shall a fresher life begin;
Freer breathe the universe
As it rolls its heavy curse
On the dead and buried sin!

It is done!
In the circuit of the sun
Shall the sound thereof go forth.
It shall bid the sad rejoice,
It shall give the dumb a voice,
It shall belt with joy the earth!

Ring and swing,
Bells of joy! On morning's wing
Sound the song of praise abroad!
With a sound of broken chains
Tell the nations that He reigns,
Who alone is Lord and God!

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Come Join The Abolitionists

Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye young men bold and strong.
And with a warm and cheerful zeal,
Come help the cause along;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when Slavery is no more,
When Slavery is no more.
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When Slavery is no more.

Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye men of riper years,
And save your wives and children dear,
From grief and bitter tears;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when Slavery is no more,
When Slavery is no more,
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When Slavery is no more.

Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye dames and maidens fair,
And breathe around us in our path
Affection's hallowed air;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when woman cheers us on,
When woman cheers us on, to conquests not yet won.
'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When woman cheers us on.

Come join the Abolitionists,
Ye sons and daughters all
Of this our own America-
Come at the friendly call;
O that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,
O that will be joyful, when all shall proudly say,
This, this is Freedom's day-Oppression flee away!
'T is then we'll sing, and offerings bring,
When freedom wins the day.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Lost Statesman

AS they who, tossing midst the storm at night,
While turning shoreward, where a beacon shone,
Meet the walled blackness of the heaven alone,
So, on the turbulent waves of party tossed,
In gloom and tempest, men have seen thy light
Quenched in the darkness. At thy hour of noon,
While life was pleasant to thy undimmed sight,
And, day by day, within thy spirit grew
A holier hope than young Ambition knew,
As through thy rural quiet, not in vain,
Pierced the sharp thrill of Freedom's cry of pain,
Man of the millions, thou art lost too soon!
Portents at which the bravest stand aghast, —
The birth-throes of a Future, strange and vast,
Alarm the land; yet thou, so wise and strong,
Suddenly summoned to the burial bed,
Lapped in its slumbers deep and ever long,
Hear'st not the tumult surging overhead.
Who now shall rally Freedom's scattering host?
Who wear the mantle of the leader lost?
Who stay the march of slavery? He whose voice
Hath called thee from thy task-field shall not lack
Yet bolder champions, to beat bravely back
The wrong which, through his poor ones, reaches Him:
Yet firmer hands shall Freedom's torchlights trim,
And wave them high across the abysmal black,
Till bound, dumb millions there shall see them and rejoice.

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Let My People Go!

Thank God a Southern triumph was not to be;
victory for the South was victory for slavery!
'We too fight for freedom, our Captain is God, '
but did you not know, all are created equal, by God?
Therefore be your brother white black red or yellow,
free your brother, cruel fields of slavery, must fall fallow!

Written as a rebuttal to ‘We Conquer or Die’ by John Pierpont. The above quoted line is from ‘We Conquer or Die’.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Rebecca's Hymn

When Israel, of the Lord beloved,
Out from the land of bondage came,
Her father's God before her moved,
An awful Guide, in smoke and flame.
By day, along the astonished lands
The cloudy pillar glided slow;
By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands
Returned the fiery column's glow.

There rose the choral hymn of praise,
And trump and timbrel answer'd keen,
And Zion's daughters pour'd their lays,
With priest's and warrior's voice between.
No portents now our foes amaze,
Forsaken Israel wanders lone:
Our fathers would not know Thy ways,
And Thou hast left them to their own.

But present still, though now unseen,
When brightly shines the prosperous day,
Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen,
To temper the deceitful ray.
And O, when gathers on our path,
In shade and storm, the frequent night,
Be Thou, long suffering, slow to wrath,
A burning and a shining light!

Our harps we left by Babel's streams,
The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn;
No censer round our altar beams,
And mute are timbrel, harp, and horn.
But Thou hast said, The blood of goat,
The flesh of rams I will not prize;
A contrite heart, a humble thought,
Are mine accepted sacrifice.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Slaves Are The Ones Holding The Guns

A culture shock.
Time to take off our bullet proof vests.
Time to put down our guns.
Let the violence end.

Children marching in formation upon the battle field.
With signs held up so high.
With rubber kisses and beatings of a life time.
Let us take note, let us make a record.
Do whats right put down your guns and join us.

Slavery is over.

A culture shock.
Time to take off our bullet proof vest.
Time to put down our guns.
Let the violence end.

Slavery is over.
Slavery is over.

Herding the cows with greener pastures.
Desire turns to lust.
Slowly our hearts start to rust.
Soon they wither away in to this black powder.
Ashes to ashes and the dust upon the dust.
Rubbing us the wrong way.
And the sparks become the flames.

Slavery is over.