A Song for the Millions.

Joy, joy to the injured—the millions awaken,1
Soon, soon from the bond will their bondage be shaken ;2
To the toiler ’tis sweet—to the tyrant appalling !3
The voice of a people for justice loud calling.4
Be firm ! O millions, nor fear ye nor falter,5
Though your struggle may be with the throne and the
altar ;
Your power must be greatest—the earth hath not any7
Nor of priest, lord, or king, like the might of the many.8
At last ye awaken o’er your dark night of sorrow9
Dawns the soul-cheering light of fair liberty’s morrow ;10
Long, long have the many in fetters been sleeping ;11
Or the father o’er-toiled, and the pale mother seeping:12
And ever be tyrants o’er cowards prevailing,13
Of your chains ye are worthy, who idly are wailing ;14
But ye, England’s millions, no more will ye falter,15
Though the struggle should be with the throne and the
Joy ! joy ! to old England—her slumber is broken ;17
Again to her lion-hearts freedom hath spoken ;—18
Joy ! joy ! to “ Auld Scotland,” her might and her
Again will be more than a famed olden story.20
And soon, plundered Erin ! shall freedom elate her,21
Though the victim she be of the priest and the traitor ;22
Though he, the false-hearted, who proudly might save
Hath mocked her with liberty, the more to enslave her.24
Hark ! hark ! o’er the land the glad summons is sounding,25
And the hearts of the toilers, responsive, are bounding ;26
The injured have gathered—as one they are blending ;27
Oh ! God, speed the millions, while freedom defending.28
Remember, ye many, how freedom hath found ye,29
And the none ye have felt, and the chains that have
bound ye ;
Whatever the foe—though the throne and the altar,31
Oh ! God speed ye, millions, nor fear ye nor falter.32