THANK GOD FOR ALL.

Air—'They tell me thou'rt a favored guest;' or,' Seht ihr drei Rosse vor dem Wagen.'

Look back upon the vanished years, When all men pointed at our shame; Think on the curses and the jeers Which rung and clung around our name: A byword and a mocking call— And we may thank the South for all. The foulness of their Southern slime Was cast upon our Northern hands; The curse of murder, craft, and crime Clung to our fame in foreign lands: Men thought us prompt to thieve or brawl— And we may thank the South for all. Britannia smiles on Davis now, And blesses all his bayonets; There was a time when on our brow She set the shame of Southern debts: We wore the chain—we dragged the ball— And we may thank the South for all. Men spoke of slaves in bitter tone, When pointing to the stripes and stars; 'The constellation is your own, The negro gets the bloody scars, And yet of equal rights you bawl!' Well—we may thank the South for all. They stole our starlight—made us blind, As did of old the Norland elves: Prometheus stole it—for mankind, But they—they kept it for themselves, And held us like their slaves in thrall— And we—we thanked them for it all. Thank God! the pact is rent in twain! Thank God! the light is all our own! We've burst the bonds and rent the chain, And drawn the sword, unhelped, alone: And, holding Freedom's carnival, We'll thank the South for that and all. The morning-red is on our brow, The brand, the curse grows pale with night; The sword is in our hands, and now All gleams in glory's golden light: We're free! Ye nations, hear the call— We see! and now thank God for all!