Beautiful and happy will this world be, when slavery and every other form of oppression shall have ceased. But this change can be produced only by the religion of Jesus Christ. Reliance on any other power to overthrow slavery, or restore to order and happiness this sin-crazed and sin-ruined world, will be vain. Gerrit Smith PETERBORO’, SEPT. 22, 1852. ODE Sung at the celebration of the First Anniversary of the kidnapping, at Boston, of Thomas Sims, a fugitive slave:--the kidnapping done under the forms of law, and by its officers, 12 June 1851. The deed _celebrated_ at the Melodeon, Boston, 12 June 1852. BY REV. JOHN PIERPONT. Souls of the patriot dead, On Bunker’s height who bled! The pile, that stands On your long-buried bones,-- Those monumental stones,-- Should not suppress the groans, This day demands. For Freedom there ye stood; There gave the earth your blood; There found your graves; That men of every clime, Faith, color, tongue, and time, Might, through your death sublime, Never be slaves. [Illustration: LIBERTY] Over your bed, so low, Heard ye not, long ago, A voice of power[O] Proclaim to earth and sea, That, where ye sleep, should be A home for Liberty, Till Time’s last hour? Hear ye the chains of slaves, Now clanking round your graves? Hear ye the sound Of that same voice, that calls From out our Senate halls,[P] “Hunt down those fleeing thralls, With horse and hound!” That voice your sons hath swayed! ’Tis heard, and is obeyed! This gloomy day Tells you of ermine stained, Of Justice’ name profaned, Of a poor bondman, chained And borne away! Over Virginia’s Springs, Her eagles spread their wings, Her Blue Ridge towers:-- That voice,[Q]--once heard with awe,-- Now asks,--“Who ever saw, Up there, a higher law Than this of ours?” Must _we_ obey that voice? When God, or man’s the choice, Must we postpone HIM, who from Sinai spoke? Must we wear slavery’s yoke? Bear of her lash the stroke, And prop her throne? Lashed with her hounds, must we Run down the poor, who flee From Slavery’s hell? Great God! when we _do_ this, Exclude us from thy bliss; At us let angels hiss, From heaven that fell! Jn. Pierpont PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE WOMAN. BY ANNIE PARKER. “The slaves at Oak Grove did not mourn for poor Elsie when she died,” said aunt Phillis, continuing her narrative. “She was never a favorite, and from the time her beauty attracted the notice of the young master, and he began to pet her, she grew prouder and prouder, and treated the other slaves as if she were their mistress, rather than their equal. They hated her for her influence over the master, and she knew it, and that made matters worse between them.