Detested Sport, That Owes Its Pleasures To

He Finds His Fellow Guilty Of A Skin Not Color'd Like His Own, And Having Pow'r T' Enforce The Wrong, For Such A Worthy Cause Dooms And Devotes Him As His Lawful Prey.

It Is A Terrible Thought, That Nothing Is Ever Forgotten; That Not An Oath Is Ever Uttered That Does Not Continue To Vibrate Through All Times, In The Wide Spreading Current Of Sound; That Not A Prayer Is Lisped, That Its Record Is Not To Be Found St

The Path Of Sorrow, And That Path Alone, Leads To The Land Where Sorrow Is Unknown.

The Things That Mount The Rostrum With A Skip, And Then Skip Down Again, Pronounce A Text, Cry Hem; And Reading What They Never Wrote Just Fifteen Minutes, Huddle Up Their Work, And With A Well-bred Whisper Close The Scene!

Ye Fearful Saints Fresh Courage Take, The Clouds You So Much Dread Are Big With Mercy And Shall Break, With Blessings On Your Head