TO ABOLITIONISTS by JOHN PIERPONT

SERVANTS of God most high,
Who on his word rely,
By ancient seers and holy prophets spoken --
That all the chains that gall
The Ethiopian thrall,
And every yoke, shall from his neck be broken --
Whether, with holy zeal,
Ye in your closets kneel,
Or plead the cause of Freedom in a throng,
Or through a dauntless press,
The voice of righteousness
Ye pour out, like a torrent, deep and strong --
Give not your labors o'er,
Because ye're few and poor,
Because a lion couches in your path,
Because a lawless horde
Upon your heads have poured, --
Your heads unhelmeted, -- their vialed wrath.
The ancient seers, like you,
To God and duty true,
Were, in their day, reviled and put to shame:
Scorned, hated, hunted, they
From earth have passed away:
Their forms have passed away, but not their fame.
Death dares not touch their Word!
The soul of man is stirred
By it, wherever on the darkling earth,
God's Truth and human Right
Come down to dwell in light,
And holy Freedom struggles into birth.
So shall your words be breathed,
Where'er man's brow is wreathed
With the sharp chaplet that for Him was twined,
Who lived mid taunts and sneers,
Who died mid scoffs and jeers,
From sin and slavery to redeem mankind.
Servants of God most holy,
Who stoop to man most lowly,
To lift him up and give him liberty,
What though to-day's unpleasant!
Ye live not in the present;
Your life is in the infinite TO BE.
Your words of love sincere,
Now spoken in the ear,
Where Mammon's priests bend at his altar brazen,
And lift the suppliant eye,
In foul idolatry --
All tongues shall trumpet, and on house-tops blazon.
Yea, and your 'name and praise,'
That, in these slavish days,
So many vainly dream are soon to perish,
As in the coming age
They shine on History's page,
The proud shall envy, and the good shall cherish.

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