  Over the waters wide and deep Where the storm-waves roll, and the storm-winds sweep,— Over the waters see them come! Breasting the billows’ curling foam, Fathers for children seeking a home In Afric’s Southern Wilds. Wilderness lands of brake and glen, The wolf’s and the panther’s gloomy den;— And the lion’s voice from the hill resounds,— And the vulture circles in airy rounds, Are Afric’s Southern Wilds. “Hand to the labour!—heart and hand! Our sons shall inherit an altered land: Harvests shall wave o’er the virgin soil, Cottages stand, and gardens smile, And the songs of our children the hours beguile, ’Mid Afric’s Southern Wilds. “Make we the pride of the forest yield; Wrest from the wilderness field on field; And to brighten our hope, and lighten our care, And gain the aid of our Father there, Raise we to heaven the voice of prayer From Afric’s Southern Wilds.” . . . . . . . . . . The locust clouds have darkened heaven; The “rusted” fields to the flame are given: The war-cry is echoing wild and loud; For the war of the savage, fierce and proud, Has burst like the storm from the thunder-cloud On Afric’s Southern Wilds. “Never despair, though the harvests fail; Though the hosts of a savage foe assail; Never despair; we shall conquer yet, And the toils of our earlier years forget In hope’s bright glory our sun shall set ’Midst Afric’s Southern Wilds.” . . . . . . . . . . But their children inherit their hope’s bequest. Valleys are smiling in harvest pride; There are fleecy flocks on the mountain side; Cities are rising to stud the plains; The life-blood of commerce is coursing the veins Of a new-born Empire, that grows and reigns Over Afric’s Southern Wilds. Rev. H. H. Dugmore. April 10, 1861. [Image of decorative bar not available.] |
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