The word of God to Leyden came, Dutch town by Zuyder Zee: Rise up, my children of no name, My kings and priests to be. There is an empire in the West, Which I will soon unfold; A thousand harvests in her breast, Rocks ribbed with iron and gold. Rise up, my children, time is ripe! Old things are passed away. Bishops and kings from earth I wipe; Too long they've had their day. A little ship have I prepared To bear you o'er the seas; And in your souls my will declared Shall grow by slow degrees. Beneath my throne the martyrs cry; I hear their voice, How long? It mingles with their praises high, And with their victor song. The thing they longed and waited for, But died without the sight; So, this shall be! I wrong abhor, The world I'll now set right. Leave, then, the hammer and the loom, You've other work to do; For Freedom's commonwealth there's room, And you shall build it too. I'm tired of bishops and their pride, I'm tired of kings as well; Henceforth I take the people's side, And with the people dwell. Tear off the mitre from the priest, And from the king, his crown; Let all my captives be released; Lift up, whom men cast down. Their pastors let the people choose, And choose their rulers too; Whom they select, I'll not refuse, But bless the work they do. The Pilgrims rose, at this, God's word, And sailed the wintry seas: With their own flesh nor blood conferred, Nor thought of wealth or ease. They left the towers of Leyden town, They left the Zuyder Zee; And where they cast their anchor down, Rose Freedom's realm to be. JEREMIAH EAMES RANKIN. A vessel of one hundred and eighty tons, named the Mayflower, was fitted out, and, on August 5 (N. S. 15), 1620, the emigrants sailed from Southampton, whither they had gone to join the ship. There were ninety persons aboard the Mayflower and thirty aboard a smaller vessel, the Speedwell. But the Speedwell proved unseaworthy, and after twice putting back for repairs, twelve of her passengers were crowded into the Mayflower, which finally, on September 6 (N. S. 16), turned her prow to the west, and began the most famous voyage in American history, after that of Columbus. SONG OF THE PILGRIMS [September 16 (N. S.), 1620] The breeze has swelled the whitening sail, The blue waves curl beneath the gale, And, bounding with the wave and wind, We leave Old England's shores behind-- Leave behind our native shore, Homes, and all we loved before. The deep may dash, the winds may blow, The storm spread out its wings of woe, Till sailors' eyes can see a shroud Hung in the folds of every cloud; Still, as long as life shall last, From that shore we'll speed us fast.