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582.

12s. M.

Whittier.

Freedom.
452

May freedom speed onward, wherever the blood

Of the wronged and the guiltless is crying to God;

Wherever from kindred, torn rudely apart,

Comes the sorrowful wail of the broken of heart.

Wherever the shackles of tyranny bind

In silence and darkness the God-given mind,

There, Lord, speed it onward! the truth shall be felt,

The bonds shall be loosened, the iron will melt.

Help us turn from the cavil of creeds, to unite

Once again for the poor, in defence of the Right,

Unappalled by the danger, the shame, or the pain,

And counting each trial for Truth as our gain.

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