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As 'Steal away to Jesus'? On its strains
His spirit must have nightly floated free,
Though still about his hands he felt his chains.Our love, our toils, our pains,
Are counted us for guilt,
And only bind our chains.Of Princes passed in chains,
Of deeds out-shining stars,
No word or voice remains.By Oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,On the only aged willow that in all the field remains
And nature hides her face where theyre sweeing in their
chainsBy Oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!Then he bade them bind with chains
This man of books and brains;To bind a lingering life in chains:
All that could quit my grasp, or flee,
Is gone;---but not the subtle stainsAfter all our great pains
For to dangle in chainsThey save not me, they do not ease my pains,
When in that hell they're burnt and tied in chains.OUR fellow-countrymen in chains!
Slaves, in a land of light and law!
Slaves, crouching on the very plainsBy oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,To the east are wild mountain-chains;
And beyond them meres and plains;As one unfettered with its gilded chains,
As one untempted by its sordid gains,Save power remains;
A fallen angel's pride of thought,
Still strong in chains.Together, then, break we our chains!
There is hope, there is rest, in the tomb,
When in life nought but anguish remains.Bruadar lose blood and brains,
Amen, O Jesus! hear my voice,
Let Smith be bent in chains.In foam and flame at Trafalgar, on Albuera plains,
We did and died like lions, to keep ourselves in chains,Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains,
While the kindling of life in his bosom remains,Go, tell our invaders, the Danes,
That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine,
Than to sleep but a moment in chains.