torn—

That his garments are faded, and ragged, and worn—

That his features are bronzed, and his visage is marred—

That his limbs are all bruised, and his body all scarred;

The wonder is, how, in such terrible strife,

He has struggled so nobly and come out with life.

But the heaven-born instinct that nerved his brave spirit

A Temple to build, for the Free to inherit,

Inspired him with courage, enduring and true,

That Temple to save and its foes to subdue;

And he vowed that his work forever should be

Preserved and respected, blest, happy, and free!

At the cost of much blood, and his doublet and hose,

(For a man is a man, in despite of torn clothes,)

Jack has labored, and suffered, by day and by night,

For he knew that his cause was just, holy, and right:

The Goddess of Liberty smiled through her tears,

As her brave-hearted champion so war-worn appears;

And with mingled emotions of sadness and bliss,

She embraced her young Hero, and—gave him a kiss!

Original Size

He comes, and his advent betokens the fate

That Despots and Tyrants all trembling await.

He comes! and the clank of the chains as they fall

From the captive, proclaim him the Savior of all!

He comes! and the doors of the prison fly open,

And the bond are set free by the word he hath spoken!

He comes! and before him all darkness and night

Flee away at his presence! for He is the Light!

The altar is raised, and the priest is at hand,

All shaven and shorn, at the altar to stand;

And now, through the land, the whole nation rejoices;

As the sound of great waters they lift up their voices!

A marriage! a marriage! a wedding so rare

The world never saw; and such a glorious pair!

No emperor or king—no hero of old,

Though decked in the treasures of purple and gold,

Could compare in his royalty, splendor and pride,

To the patriot Workingman claiming his bride.

No queen, though her form should be peerless in grace—

Though the smile of a seraph illumined her face—

Could compare with sweet Liberty, matchless, divine,

As she stood in her loveliness there at the shrine;

And angels smiled down from their home in the skies,

And the bowed ones of earth wiped the tears from their eyes,

And the spirits of patriots rejoiced to behold

The dream of their labors so brightly unfold.

A Union! A Union! that nothing shall sever!

Free Labor and Liberty wedded forever!

The priest at his labors, by word and by deed,

In active benevolence none could exceed;

In season and out, at all times of the year,

If his presence was needed he'd surely be there.

He would weep with the mourner, rejoice with the gay,

And help, with a blessing, the poor on their way.

Untiring, incessant, he grudged every minute

That kept him from work—for his heart, it was in it!

The lark was too late with its carol so sweet,

As it soared in the morning the sunshine to greet;

The priest could not slumber so long on his bed,

For he knew that his Master had not, for his head,

A pillow to rest on; and he would not dare

To refuse, in degree, his privations to share.

But listen! The cock, with a shrill chanticleer,

Proclaims, by his voice, that the dawning is near.

Awake, Priest, awake! To thy labors once more!

Away to the Temple, God's grace to implore

On the day—on the nuptials—and