The Liberator

LITERARY.

FOREST WOOD.
BY THE AUTHOR OF CORN LAW RHYMES.

Within the sun-lit forest.
Our roof of the bright blue sky,
Where fountains flow, and wild flowers blow,
We lift our hearts on high:
Beneath the frown of wicked man
Our country's strength is bowing
But, thanks to God! they can't prevent
The lone wild flowers from blowing!

High, high above the tree-tops
The lark is soaring free:
Where streams the light through broken clouds
His speckled breast I see.
Beneath the might of wicked men
The poor man's worth is dying;
But, thank'd be God! in spite of them,
The lark still warbles flying!

The preacher says, 'Lord bless us!
Lord bless us!' echo cries;
Amen!' the breezes murmur low,
'Amen!' the rill replies;
The ceaseless toil of wo-worn hearts
The proud with pangs are paying;
But here, oh God of earth and heaven
The humble heart is praying,

How softly, in the pauses
Of song, re-echoed wide,
The cushat's coo, the linnet's lay,
O'er rill and river glide:
With evil deeds of men
The affrighted land is ridging;
But still, oh Lord! the pious heart
And soul-toned voice are singing:

Hush! hush! the preacher preacheth
'Wo to th' oppressor, wo!'
But sudden gloom o'ercasts the sun
And saddened flowers below;
So frowns the Lord! but tyrants, ye
Deride his indignation,
And see not, in his gathered brow,
Your day of tribulation!

Speak low, thou heaven-paid teacher
The tempest bursts above;
God whispers in the thunder: hear
The terrors of his love!
On useful hands and honest hearts
The base their wrath are wreaking;
But, thank'd be God! they can't prevent
The storm of heaven from speaking.