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This poem was written by Ellen Murray, a co-founder of the Penn School on St. Helena Island in South Carolina. The poem was originally published in the National Anti-Slavery Standard on April 18, 1863.
Where the spires rise like forests
In the cities of the North,
And from many a happy homestead
Pour the gathering thousands forth;
Where the children sing of Jesus,
Tell their chosen verses o’er,
And the day went all too swiftly
For the love and praise it bore;
On this holy Sabbath day
God is with us – and always.
Where the foeman’s cannon thunder
Down upon our steady line,
Where across the reddened rampart
Bayonets advancing shine,
Where the shout and curse are mingling
With our “Lord, defend the right,”
And while saying, “Christ, receive me!”
Many a lip in death grows white;
On this holy Sabbath day
God is with us – and always.
Where the islands lie in clusters,
Like the stars upon the blue,
And the freedmen with their children
Wander the field and pathway through
To the church beneath the live oaks,
Life their hands in prayer to heaven
For the country and the altars
Northern hands to them have given;
On this holy Sabbath day
God is with us – and always.
Where in many an inland cabin,
Slaves are cowering in dismay,
Hope forevermore forgotten,
Daring not to praise or pray,
Sitting dumb and helpless, waiting,
Rocking slowly to and fro,
Waiting for the Liberator,
Should God’s justice overflow;
On this holy Sabbath day
God is with us – and always.
Where in lonely homes the mothers
Weep for sons, and mourning wives
Miss afresh each day the vanished
Love and glory of their lives;
Where the children group and wonder
Why the letters come no more,
And why no returning transport
Brings their father to the shore;
On this holy Sabbath day
God is with us – and always.
Where the bells of heaven, ringing,
Charm the heart’s long grief away,
Where God’s name is in the forehead,
And Christ’s feet have led the way;
Where they gather in the throne-light
With a silence so like praise,
That no words could half interpret
The deep worship of that gaze;
On this holy Sabbath day
God is with us – and always.
Ellen Murray
Part of a series of articles titled
Poems by Ellen Murray.
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The Slave in Tennessee
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Lines to E. H. F.
Where this belongs
- Reconstruction Era National Historical Park
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