New Year's Address to the Patrons of the Anxious Seat

New Year’s Address To The Patrons of The Anrious Seat.

STILL on his restless pinions Time is speeding—
And still Old Earth is slowly rolling round,
Years come and pass, and New Years still succeeding,
Speak unto man a lesson, most profound.
How many slumber in the silent ground
Who joined the laugh, the revel, this day year—
Who hear no more the greeting—or share the cheer—
Of New Year merriment—or share the cheer—
Or know, or care to know for what is passing here!

Thus has it been—thus will it ever be,
And so no more about it need be said.
And now “to revels” with all decency,
Having devoted thus much to the dead.
More had been written than will e’er be read
Upon this solemn subject, and therefore,
As we have nothing new upon this head,
To dwell upon it might be deemed a bore,
Sic transit Gloria! “Let’s talk of graves, no more!”

Patrons, all health and happiness to you,
To you we tune our simple New Year lay,
Our grateful thanks, regards, and wishes true
And all the generous greetings of the day
We lay before you, ’tis our first essay,
Yet with your favour ’twill not be our last,
For while one Hypocrite remains to slay,
The flag of Freedom nail we to the mast,
And trump defiance with a never ending blast!

We want no northern bigots to enslave us,
Our creed is Justice, Honesty, and Love,
We do not think HYPOCRISY can save us,
Nor seek instruction but from Him above.
’Tis not Christianity or truth to prove
These reverend Northern Leeches throng our shores,
They come our pockets, not our hearts to move
And fain would have us open all our doors,
And buy wholesale their psalms, hymns, groans, and
holy wars!

They’d bind us in fanatiscism’s chains,
They’d apread the mist of superstition round us,
They’d take away our labours honest gains,
And when in full security they’d bound us,
To make us holy, sweat and switch and pound us,
All for our own dear sakes! The canting knaves!
’Till to the dust beneath their feet they’d ground us,
They are so generous! they’d free our slaves,
Exorcise, excommunicate and dig our graves!

Here is a smooth-pate with a saint like face,
Comes with a second-handed stock of prayers,
Tracts, sermons, and a quantity of grace
To be sold off for cash and equal shares—
He begs us to accept his pious cares.
Attempts to cast a brother from his place,
And not succeeding, goes back and declares
We are a lost and most abandoned race,
Knowing no goodness and going to hell apace!

He borrows money from the Abolition
Society who tell him not to fret,
He then comes back to set up opposition
To the Dear Friend whose place he could’nt get,
He finds his southern sheepfold in a pet,
And straight begins to sermonise and pray,
Begging we would be kind enough to let
His slanders pass unnoticed all away,
At any rate says he I’m here and mean to stay!

I never called you Atheists, indeed!
The words I used I’ll hang upon the moon,
May I this instant as a martyr bleed
If I have slandered even a quadroon!
I care nor for your frowns a pickiyune
I’m Honest Joel! and I come to save
This wretched population! Very soon
My church will be erected, so behave
Yourselves while I your road to future glory pave!

Thus came the honey’d accents from the mouth
Of honest little joel! And shall we,
The sons—The freeborn spirits of the south
Be whip’d and schooled by such a thing as he!
Shade of our Fathers! It shall never be!
Bigots we cast you from us! up, and fly!
Shun the just anger of the brave and free
Vengeance already howls along the sky!—
Beware the bursting storm, the fight, the battle cry!

Our course is taken. Patrons bestow your aid,
Brethreu come forth and take the Anxious Seat.
No monstrous contribution need be paid—
No hoary Hypocrite, no holy feet,
Join us in honesty and friendship sweet!
Bring not your gold, but come with heart and hand,
Our soil is trodden by unholy feet,
Draw forth your weapons bright, and bid them
Stand,
Strike home for liberty! and drive them from the land!

Oh! when entrammell’d by despotic chains,
Shall Truth smile fixed and freely o’er the earth?
Cleansed of the foul and pestilential stains
That mar her loveliness and hide her worth!
Oh! when shall Liberty indeed have birth?
When shall the fogs of priesteraft fade away
And leave the globe to harmony and mirth?
Can mortals ever hope for such a day?
Come to the Anxious Seat Brothers, and “let us pray.”

Patrons, a joyous and a happy year
Peace, health, and plenty, and a glad return
Of new-year holidays, and christmas cheer
We wish you each and all! and may we earn
Your smiles for our endeavours! Strong and storne,
We fight the good fight fearlessly and bold!
The torch is lit, long may the red flame burn
To scorch fanaticism in its hold!
Adieu! Hail to the new year! Farewell to the old!

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