EDNA DEAN PROCTOR.

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LAUS DEO!

[On hearing the bells ring on the passage of the Constitutional Amendment abolishing slavery.]

        It is done! 
    Clang of bell and roar of gun
  Send the tidings up and down. 
    How the belfries rock and reel! 
    How the great guns, peal on peal,
  Fling the joy from town to town!

        Ring, O bells! 
    Every stroke exulting tells
  Of the burial hour of crime. 
    Loud and long, that all may hear,
    Ring for every listening ear
  Of Eternity and Time!

        Let us kneel: 
    God’s own voice is in that peal,
  And this spot is holy ground. 
    Lord, forgive us!  What are we,
    That our eyes this glory see,
  That our ears have heard the sound!

        For the Lord
    On the whirlwind is abroad;
  In the earthquake he has spoken;
    He has smitten with his thunder
    The iron walls asunder,
  And the gates of brass are broken!

        Loud and long
    Lift the old exulting song;
  Sing with Miriam by the sea: 
    He has cast the mighty down;
    Horse and rider sink and drown;
  He has triumphed gloriously!

        Did we dare,
    In our agony of prayer,
  Ask for more than He has done? 
    When was ever his right hand
    Over any time or land
  Stretched as now beneath the sun?

        How they pale,
    Ancient myth and song and tale,
  In this wonder of our days,
    When the cruel rod of war
    Blossoms white with righteous law,
  And the wrath of man is praise!

        Blotted out! 
    All within and all about
  Shall a fresher life begin;
    Freer breathe the universe
    As it rolls its heavy curse
  On the dead and buried sin.

        It is done! 
    In the circuit of the sun
  Shall the sound thereof go forth. 
    It shall bid the sad rejoice,
    It shall give the dumb a voice,
  It shall belt with joy the earth!

        Ring and swing,
    Bells of joy!  On morning’s wing
  Send the song of praise abroad! 
    With a sound of broken chains,
    Tell the nations that He reigns,
  Who alone is Lord and God!

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

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A HOLY NATION.

  Let Liberty run onward with the years,
  And circle with the seasons; let her break
  The tyrant’s harshness, the oppressor’s spears;
  Bring ripened recompenses that shall make
  Supreme amends for sorrow’s long arrears;
  Drop holy benison on hearts that ache;
  Put clearer radiance into human eyes,
  And set the glad earth singing to the skies.