Benjamin Lundy

Wo! for thy many triumphs, Death!
Wo! that the righteous perisheth, 
     And no man layeth it to heart!
Yet hath his spirit sweet release, 
His troubles and his trials cease, 
And ever in the perfect peace 
     Of God he hath a part.

Such bliss is thine, oh thou! whose name 
By generous deeds is linked to fame—
Thou—whom no danger could appal 
When mindful of the heavenly call, 
To loose the slave from tyrant-thrall,
     Thy country from its shame—
Nor toil, nor pain, nor scorn, nor wrath, 
Nor ruffian threats of stripes and death, 
Could turn thee back from duty's path,
     In courage still the same.

In other days, when Slavery's power 
Had triumphed in an evil hour, 
And wearied with the bootless strife—
     With fainting heart and feeble hand, 
     Dejected stood the Spartan band, 
Who warred for right as men for life—
     To thee 'twas given to rouse the land:
Young, poor, untitled, and unknown,
With fearless breath thy trump was blown, 
And on the winds thy banner thrown
     Abroad with single hand!

Weeks, months, and years went by, and still,
Amidst accumulated ill,
     Thy spirit shrank not from its trial;
But, true to God and human weal, 
Pressed on with unabated zeal, 
     In peril and in self-denial—
Till, roused by thee, the good awoke—
     The dreamless sleep of years was broke—
     Men started from repose, and saw 
The trampled slave, with lifted eye, 
Imploring in his agony
The Christian's succor ere he die—
     The blessings of the Christian's law—
And underneath thy banner's fold, 
The aged man, the stripling bold, 
In mustering multitudes enrolled, 
     And hurried to the war!

Peace be to thee who gave no peace 
To Freedom's foes till life did cease!
     Oh, hadst thou lived to see 
The triumph of thy noble cause,
The reign of RIGHT and EQUAL LAWS, 
And listen to the world's applause, 
     Which yet shall sound for thee-
How had thy spirit leaped
With strength and ecstacy[sic] divine,
     The anthem of the free!

Rest, FRIEND OF MAN!—thy grave shall be 
     Henceforth a shrine, where pilgrim-feet
Shall press the turf that covers thee 
     And pilgrims' lips thy deeds repeat—
How, in an evil age and time,
Thy voice rebuked the tyrant's crime, 
And bade the bondman hope and wait 
The coming of a happier fate,
When Freedom's mandate should be spoken, 
And every yoke and fetter broken.
The slave, upspringing from his chain,
     The tyrant, from his guilt set free,
Shall wet thy grave with tears, like rain,
     Weeping and blessing thee!
     And until Time his flight shall end, 
Thy deeds of daring shall be known— 
The moral triumphs thou hast won-
     LUNDY — THE SLAVE'S UNFAILING FRIEND!
          A PEOPLE'S CHAMPION!