from "Concert Gems" by T. Martin Towne,
of the Continental Vocalists. [No. 5 of 6]
"We Wait Beneath the Furnace Blast" (c1863; 11 Jan 1864)
[No. 1126; 28413; Copyright Library 5 Aug 1865; M1640.T]
A Quartette
Words by John [C.?] Greenleaf Whittier, 1807-1892
Music by Thomas Martin Towne, 1835-1912

Chicago: H. M. HIGGINS, 117 Randolph St.
[Source: 200002089@LoC/IHAS-CWM]

1.
We wait beneath the furnace-blast
The pangs of transformation,
Not painlessly doth God recast
And mould anew a nation.
Hot burns the fire
Where wrongs expire!
Nor spares the hand
That from the land
Uproots the ancient evil.

2.
The hand-breadth cloud the sages feared
Its bloody rain is dropping;
The prison plant the fathers spared
All else is overtopping.
East, West, South, North,
It curses the earth;
All justice dies,
And fraud and lies
Live only in its shadow.

3.
What gives the wheat-field blades of steel?
What points the rebel cannon?
What sets the roaring rabble's heel
On the old star-spangled pennon?
What breaks the oath
Of the men o' the South?
What whets the knife
For the Union's life?--
Hark, to the answer:-- Slavery! 

4.
Then waste no blows on lesser foes
In strife unworthy freemen,
God lifts today the vail and shews
The features of the demon!
O North and South,
Its victims both,
Can you not cry,
"Let Slavery die!"
And union find in freedom.

5.
What though the cast-out spirit fear
The nation in his going,
We who have shared the guilt must share
The pang of o'erthrowing!
Whate'er the loss,
Whate'er the dross,
Shall they complain
Of present pain
Who trust in God's hereafter?

6.
For who that leans on His right arm
Was ever yet forsaken?
What righteous cause can suffer harm
If He its part has taken?
Tho' wild and loud
And dark the cloud,
Behind its folds
His hand upholds
The calm sky of tomorrow?

7.
Above the maddening cry for blood,
Above the wild war-drumming,
Let Freedom's voice be heard, with good
The evil overcoming,
Give prayer and purse
To stay the Curse
Whose wrong we share
Whose shame we bear;
Whose end shall gladen Heaven!

8.
In vain the bells of war shall ring
Of triumphs and revenges,
While still is spared the evil thing
That serves and estranges.
But, blest the ear
That yest shall hear
The jubilant bell
That rings the knell of Slavery forever!

9.
Then let the selfish lip be dumb
And hushed the breath of sighing,
Before the joy of peace, must come
The palms of purifying.
God give us grace
Each in his place,
To hear his lot,
And, murmuring not,
Endure and want and labor.