They cannot sell the immortal part.

[85]

Thou Sun, which lightest bond and free,

Tell me, I pray, is liberty

The lot of those who noblest feel,

And oftest to Jehovah kneel?

Then I may say, but not with pride,

I feel the rushings of the tide

Of reason and of eloquence,

Which strive and yearn for eminence.

I feel high manhood on me now,

A spirit-glory on my brow;

I feel a thrill of music roll,

Like angel-harpings, through my soul;

While poesy, with rustling wings,

Upon my spirit rests and sings.

He sweeps my heart's deep throbbing lyre,

Who touched Isaiah's lips with fire."

May God forgive his oppressors.

BURY ME IN A FREE LAND.

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