5. Have faith, with a divine patience; man is privileged to labour for a good cause, but the glory of its success must redound to his Maker. Next to a great defeat, the most fatal event for slavery would be a great triumph. Doubtless, the bolts are now forging in some celestial armoury destined to strike the shackles from the limbs of the bond-man, and cleanse the land from the foulest and blackest iniquity ever organised and legalised in the Christian world. The shout of deliverance may come when it is least expected,—nay, the very means employed to render its coming impossible, will probably secure and hasten it. For that and every other needed reform, let the humane and hopeful strive, not despairing in the densest midnight, and realising that the darkest hour is often that preceding the dawn. Let them, squandering no opportunity, and sacrificing no principle, “Learn to labour, and to wait.” [Signature: Horace Greeley] THE GREAT EMANCIPATION. 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. [Signature: 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, colour, tongue, and time, Might, through your death sublime, Never be slaves. Over your bed, so low, Heard ye not, long ago, A voice of power[15] 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,[16] “Hunt down those fleeing thralls, With horse and hound!”