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Song of a Thousand Years
(Henry Clay Work)
Lift up you eyes, desponding freemen!
Fling to the winds your needless fears!
He who unfurled your beauteous banner,
Says it shall wave a thousand years!
cho: "A thousand years," My own Columbia!
'Tis the glad day so long foretold,
'Tis the glad morn whose early twilight
Washington saw in times of old.
What if the clouds, one little moment,
Hide the blue sky where morn appears,
Where the bright sun that tints them crimson
Rises to shine a thousand years!
Tell the great world these blessed tidings!
Yes, and be sure the bondman hears;
Tell the oppress'd of ev'ry nation
Jubilee lasts a thousand years!
ENvious foes, beyond the ocean
Little we heed your threat'ning sneers;
Little will they--our children's children--
When you are gone a thousand years.
Rebels at home! go hide your faces
Weep for your crimes with bitter tears,
You could not bind the blessed daylight
Though you should strive a thousand years.
Back to your dens, ye secret traitors,
Down to your own degraded spheres!
Ere the first blaze of sazzling sunshine
Shortens your lives a thousand years.
Haste thee along, thou glorious Noonday!
Oh, for the eyes of ancient seers,
Oh for the faith of Him that reckons
Each of His days a thousand years.
From Songs of Henry Clay Work, Work
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