  Lift up your eyes, desponding freemen! Fling to the winds your needless fears! He who unfurl’d your beauteous banner, Says it shall wave a thousand years! “A thousand years!” my own Columbia, ’Tis the glad day so long foretold! ’Tis the glad morn whose early twilight, Washington saw in times of old. What if the clouds, one little moment, Hide the blue sky where morn appears— When the bright sun, that tints them crimson, Rises to shine a thousand years? Tell the great world these blessed tidings! Yes, and be sure the bondman hears; Tell the oppressed of every nation, Jubilee lasts a thousand years! Envious foes, beyond the ocean! Little we heed your threat’ning sneers; Little will they—our children’s children— When you are gone a thousand years. Rebels at home! go hide your faces— Weep for your crimes with bitter tears; You could not bind the blessed daylight, Though you should strive a thousand years. Back to your dens, ye secret traitors! Down to your own degraded spheres! Ere the first blaze of dazzling sunshine, Shortens your lives a thousand years. Haste thee along, thou glorious noonday! Oh, for the eyes of ancient seers! Oh, for the faith of him who reckons Each of his days a thousand years! —Henry Clay Work. Henry Clay Work was born in Middletown, Connecticut, October 1, 1832. The family came originally from Scotland, and the name is thought to have come from a castle, “Auld Wark, upon the Tweed,” famed in the border wars in the times made immortal by Sir Walter Scott. He inherited his love of liberty and hatred of slavery from his father, who suffered much for conscience’ sake. While quite young, his family moved to Illinois, near Quincy, and he passed his boyhood in the most abject poverty, his father having been taken from home and imprisoned because of his strong anti-slavery views and active work in the struggles of those enthusiastic and devoted reformers. In 1845, Henry’s father was pardoned on condition that he would leave the State of Illinois. The family then Work’s first song was written in Hartford and entitled, We’re coming, Sister Mary. He sold this song to George Christie, of Christie’s minstrels, and it made a decided hit. In 1855 he removed to Chicago, where he continued his trade as a printer. The following year he married Miss Sarah Parker, of Hubbardston, Massachusetts, and settled at Hyde Park. In 1860 he wrote Lost on the “Lady Elgin,” a song commemorating the terrible disaster to a Lake Michigan steamer, which became widely known. Kingdom Coming was Work’s first war song, and was written in 1861. Now that it has been so successful, it seems strange that he should have had trouble to find a publisher for it; yet such was the case. But its success was immediate as soon as published. It is perhaps the most popular of all the darkey songs which deal directly with the question “Say, darkies, hab you seen de massa, Wid de muffstash on his face, Go long de road some time dis mornin’, Like he gwine to leab de place? He seen a smoke way up de ribber, Whar de Linkum gunboats lay; He took his hat, an’ lef’ bery sudden, An’ I spec he’s run away! De massa run? ha, ha! De darkey stay? ho, ho! It mus’ be now de kingdom comin’, And de year ob jubilo! “He’s six feet one way, two foot tudder, An’ he weigh tree hundred poun’, His coat’s so big he couldn’t pay de tailor, An’ it won’t go half way roun’. He drill so much dey call him cap’an, An’ he get so drefful tann’d, THE WHITE HOUSE I spec he try an’ fool dem Yankees For to t’ink he’s contraband. “De darkies feel so lonesome Libing in de log house on de lawn, Dey moved dar tings to massa’s parlor, For to keep it while he gone. Dar’s wine and cider in de kitchen, An’ de darkies dey’ll hab some; I spose dey’ll all be cornfiscated, When de Linkum sojers come. “De oberseer he make us trubbel, An’ he dribe us round a spell; We lock him up in de smoke-house cellar, Wid de key trown in de well. De whip is lost, de handcuff’s broken, But de massa’ll hab his pay; He’s ole enough, big enough, ought to known better, Den to went an’ run away.” Another most popular slave song which had a tremendous sale was entitled Wake Nicodemus, the first verse of which is,— “Nicodemus, the slave, was of African birth, And was bought for a bagful of gold; He was reckon’d as part of the salt of the earth, But he died years ago, very old. ’Twas his last sad request—so we laid him away In the trunk of an old hollow tree. ‘Wake me up!’ was his charge, ‘at the first break of day— Wake me up for the great jubilee!’ The Good Time Coming is almost here! It was long, long, long on the way! Now run and tell Elijah to hurry up Pomp, And meet us at the gumtree down in the swamp, To wake Nicodemus to-day.” While Marching through Georgia is, without doubt, Mr. Work’s most renowned war song, his Song of a Thousand Years has about it a rise and swell, and a sublimity both in expression and melody, that surpasses anything else that he has written. The chorus is peculiarly fine both in words and music. Work’s songs brought him a considerable fortune. After the close of the war he made an extended tour through Europe, and while on the sea wrote a song which became very famous, entitled The Ship that Never Returned. During the later years of his life he wrote Come Home, Father, and King Bibbler’s Army—both famous temperance songs. After his return from Europe, Work invested his fortune in a fruit-growing enterprise in Vineland, New Jersey. He was also a somewhat remarkable text decoration JOHN WALLACE HUTCHINSON |
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