"The Founding of the Bell" (circa 1842-4)
Words by Charles Mackay Esq.
Music by Henry Russell, 1812-1900

Boston: Oliver Ditson, 135 Washington Street

1. Hark how the furn-ace pants and roars,
Hark! how the molt-en met-al pours,
As burst-ing from its i-ron doors
  It glit-ters in the sun!
Now thro’ the read-y mould it flows,
Seeth-ing and hiss-ing as it goes
And fil-ling ev-’ry crev-ice up,
As the red vint-age fills the cup,
Hur-ra! Hur-ra! the work, the work is done.
Un-swathe him now, take off each stay,
That binds him to his couch of clay,
And let him strug-gle in-to day,
  Let chain and pul-ley run,
With yield-ing crank and stead-y rope,
Un-til he rise from rim to cope,
In round-ed beau-ty, ribb’d in strength,
With-out a flaw in all his length,
The clap-per on his gi-ant side
Shall ring no peal for blush-ing bride;
For birth or death or new-year tide
  Or fes-tiv-al be-gun.
A na-tion’s joy a-lone shall be
The sig-nal for his rev-el-ry
And for a na-tion’s woes a-lone
His mel-an-cho-ly tongue shall moan,
Hur-ra! Hur-ra! the work, the work is done.

2. Borne on the gale, deep toned and clear,
His long loud sum-mons shall we hear,
When states-men to their coun-try dear
  Their mort-al race have run.
When might-y mon-archs yield their breath,
And pa-triots sleep the sleep of death,
Then shall he raise his voice of gloom,
And past a re-quiem o’er their tomb,
Speak low, speak low, the work, the work is done,
Should foe-men lift their haugh-ty hand
And dare in-vade us where we stand,
Fast by the al-tars of our land;
  We’ll gath-er ev-’ry one.
And he shall ring the loud a-larm
To call the mul-ti-tudes to arm;
From dis-tant field and for-est brown
And teem-ing al-leys of the town.
And as the sol-emn boom they hear
Old men shall grasp the i-dle spear,
Laid by to rest for many a year,
  And to the strug-gle run.
And youths from hills and dells a-far
Shall rush to ming-le in the war
And maids have sweet-est smiles for those
Who bat-tle with their coun-try’s foes;
Hur-ra! hur-ra! the work, the work is done.

3. And when the can-non’s i-ron throat
Shall bear the news to dells re-mote
And trum-pets blast re-sound the note
  That vic-to-ry is won.
While down the wind the ban-ner drops,
And bon-fires blaze on moun-tain tops,
His sides shall glow with fierce de-light
And sing glad peals from morn to night,
Hur-ra! hur-ra! the work, the work is done.
But of such themes for-bear to tell!
May nev-er War a-wake the Bell
To sound the toc-sin or the knell!
  Hushed be th’a-lar-um gun!
Sheathed be the sword, and may his voice
But call the na-tions to re-joice
That War his tat-tered flag has furled,
And van-ished from a wis-er world
Still may he ring when strug-gles cease
Still may he ring for Joy’s in-crease
For prog-ress in the arts of Peace
  And friend-ly tro-phies won.
When ri-val na-tions join their hands!
When plen-ty crowns the hap-py lands!
When know-ledge gives new bless-ings birth
And freed-om reigns o’er all the earth
Hur-ra! hur-ra! the work, the work is done.