Goddess of Liberty!
O
Whose tearless eyes behold the chain,
And look unmoved upon the slain,
Eternal peace upon thy brow,—Before thy shrine the races press,
Thy perfect favor to implore—The proudest tyrant asks no more,
The ironed anarchist no less.
Thine altar-coals that touch the
Of prophets kindle, too, the
By Discord flung with wanton
Among the houses and the ships.
Upon thy tranquil front the
Burns bleak and passionless and white,
Its cold inclemency of
More dreadful than the shadows are.
Thy name we do not here
Our civic rites to sanctify:
Enthroned in thy remoter sky,
Thou heedest not our broken yoke.
Thou carest not for such as we:
Our millions die to serve the
And secret purpose of thy will.
They perish—what is that to thee?
The light that fills the patriot's
Is not of thee.
The shining
Compassionately offered
To those who falter in the gloom,
And fall, and call upon thy name,
And die desiring—'tis the
Of a diviner love than thine,
Rewarding with a richer fame.
To him alone let freemen
Who hears alike the victor's shout,
The song of faith, the moan of doubt,
And bends him from his nearer sky.
God of my country and my race!
So greater than the gods of old—So fairer than the prophets
Who dimly saw and feared thy face,—Who didst but half reveal thy
And gracious ends to their desire,
Behind the dawn's advancing
Thy tender day-beam veiling still,—To whom the unceasing suns belong,
And cause is one with consequence,—To whose divine, inclusive
The moan is blended with the song,—Whose laws, imperfect and unjust,
Thy just and perfect purpose serve:
The needle, howsoe'er it swerve,
Still warranting the sailor's trust,—God, lift thy hand and make us
To crown the work thou hast designed.
O, strike away the chains that
Our souls to one idolatry!
The liberty thy love hath
We thank thee for.
We thank thee
Our great dead fathers' holy
Wherein our manacles were riven.
We thank thee for the stronger
Ourselves delivered and
When—thine incitement half unheard—The chains we riveted we broke.
We thank thee that beyond the
Thy people, growing ever wise,
Turn to the west their serious
And dumbly strive to be as we.
As when the sun's returning
Upon the Nileside statue shone,
And struck from the enchanted
The music of a mighty fame,
Let Man salute the rising
Of Liberty, but not adore.'Tis Opportunity—no more—A useful, not a sacred, ray.
It bringeth good, it bringeth ill,
As he possessing shall elect.
He maketh it of none
Who walketh not within thy will.
Give thou more or less, as
Shall serve the right or serve the wrong.
Confirm our freedom but so
As we are worthy to be free.
But when (O, distant be the time!)Majorities in passion
Insurgent swords to murder Law,
And all the land is red with crime;
Or—nearer menace!—when the
Of feeble spirits cringe and
To the gigantic strength of Greed,
And fawn upon his iron hand;—Nay, when the steps to state are
In hollows by the feet of thieves,
And Mammon sits among the
And chuckles while the reapers mourn:
Then stay thy
The broken throne, repair the chain,
Restore the interrupted
And veil again thy patient face.
Lo! here upon the world's
We stand with lifted arms and
By thine eternal name to
Our country, which so fair we deem—Upon whose hills, a bannered throng,
The spirits of the sun
Their flashing lances day by
And hear the sea's pacific song—Shall be so ruled in right and
That men shall say: "O, drive
The lawless eagle from the shield,
And call an angel to the place!"
