AIR—Ortonville.
What mean ye that ye bruise and bind
My people, saith the Lord,
And starve your craving brother’s mind,
Who asks to hear my word?
What mean ye that ye make them toil,
Through long and dreary years,
And shed like rain upon your soil
Their blood and bitter tears?
What mean ye, that ye dare to rend
The tender mother’s heart?
Brothers from sisters, friend from friend,
How dare you bid them part?
What mean ye, when God’s bounteous hand
To you so much has given,
That from the slave who tills your land
Ye keep both earth and heaven?
When at the judgment God shall call,
Where is thy brother? say,
What mean ye to the judge of all
To answer on that day?