Restore a persecuted and injured people to their rights, as citizens of a free republic. Down with tyranny and oppression, and rescue your liberties from the brink of ruin. Redeem your much injured country from the awful stain upon its honor; and let the cries of helpless orphans and the tears of the sorrowing widow cease to ascend up before the Lord for vengeance upon the heads of those who have slain, plundered, imprisoned and driven the Saints. And let the news go forth to the wondering nations that Columbia still is free. O tell it not in Britain; nor let the sound be heard in Europe that Liberty is fallen; that the free institutions of our once happy country are now destroyed, lest the sons and daughters of Britannia rejoice and laugh us to scorn; lest the children of monarchy triumph and have us in derision. O freedom must thy spirit now withdraw From earth, returning to its native heaven, There to dwell, till, armed with sevenfold vengeance, It comes again to earth with King Messiah, And all His marshaled hosts, in glory bright, To tread the winepress of Almighty God, And none escape? Ye powers of Heaven, forbid; Let freedom linger still on shores of time, And in the breasts of thine afflicted saints, Let it find a peaceful retirement-- A place of rest, till o'er the troubled earth, Mercy, justice and eternal truth, While journeying hand in hand to exalt the humble And debase the proud; shall find some nation, Poor, oppressed, afflicted and despised; Cast out and trodden under foot of tyrants Proud; the hiss, the byword, and the scorn of knaves-- And there let freedom's spirit wide prevail, And grow and flourish 'mid the humble poor-- Exalted and enriched by virtue, Knowledge, temperance and love; till o'er the earth Messiah comes to reign; the proud consumed, No more oppress the poor, Let freedom's eagle then (forthcoming, like The dove from Noah's ark) on lofty pinions soar, And spread its wide domain from end to end, O'er all the vast expanse of this wide earth; While freedom's temple rears its lofty spires Amid the skies, and on its bosom rests A cloud by day and flaming fire by night! But stay my spirit, though thou fain would'st soar On high, 'mid scenes of glory, peace and joy; From bondage free, and bid thy jail farewell. Stop--wait awhile--let patience have her perfect work, Return again to suffering scenes, through which The way to glory lies, and speak of things Around thee--Thou'rt in prison still!