ON L-N'S PROCLAMATION OF APRIL 1st, 1863
We have read the tyrant's order
And the signet to the rule,
And thought the kingly jester meant
To make an April fool,
For we knew that nothing better
Than a joke in such a strain,
Could e'er be made to emanate
From his degraded brain;
For he orders every man and child
In palace or in cot,
To fast and pray on such a day;
To fast and pray for what!
To bend devoutly on your knees
To mock Almighty God!
Insult him with hypocrisy,
And court his angry rod;
To ask that God to be unjust
Who rules infinite space,
To ask Jehovah's blighting curse
Upon his chosen race;
To ask of God to hallow crime!
Oh! horrid impious thought!
The tyrant asks - the heart replies
To fast and pray for what!
To ask Almighty God to bless
A despot's rule of crime,
To ask that he will bring distress
On a more Christian clime,
To ask that murder, rapine, blood
May meet with more success;
That the noblest, fairest land on earth
Be made a wilderness;
To ask that pure and holy God
To bless his guilty plans,
And with approval sanctify
The tyrant's blood washed hands!
Pray that a mother's prayer be lost
When dragged from home in chains;
The orphan's cry ascend unheard
When weeping it complains;
Pray that the tyrant's iron bands
May rust on maiden forms,
And that his galling manacles
May bruise their fair white arms;
Pray that their tender voices die,
Their tears in torrents pour,
And that their bleaching bones may strew
The gloomy dungeons floor.
Pray for a rack - a guillotine
On which to lash the free,
That the music of their torture
And their cries of agony
May mingle with the stifled sob
Of women's broken heart,
To sate the maniac tyrant's soul
And blunt remorse's dart.
Pray for more women searchers,
With their coward hireling band
To degrade a helpless people
And insult a fallen land.
Dare you - minion though you be,
Exempt from human laws,
Dare you ask Almighty God
To enlist in such a cause!
Dare you ask the Holy one
To write his name in crime,
To write his name in guilt and shame,
In basely serving time.
Oh! is there in our native State
A soul so black and base,
As to hurl such mocking insult
Into Jehovah's face!
Then Father in Heaven hear our pray'r,
The wail of the oppressed,
Lend energy to our despair
And strength to the distressed,
And as from dungeons damp and cold,
Thy children cry to Thee,
Oh! nerve our arms and steel our hearts
That we may yet be free,
Then teach us all some fitting words
To offer on that day
When for success to Southern Arms
We gladly fast and pray.
Oh! God to thee thy people cry,
The God in whom they trust.
That thou wilt aid them in their need
And raise them from the dust,
And in thy vengeance 'Mighty God,
Thy lightning dagger thrust
Into that shameless tyrant's soul
And drain its sordid lust;
Hurl down his broken sceptre,
And break his blood-stained throne,
And applauding worlds shall clap their hands
To drown the tyrant's groan.
BY A MARYLANDER.
