I hear the voice of Quincy, of Quincy, of Quincy, I hear the voice of Quincy, in words of living truth, Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.
I hear the voice of Walker, of Walker, of Walker, I hear the voice of Walker, and see his “Branded Hand;” Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.
I hear the voice of Giddings, of Giddings, of Giddings, I hear the voice of Giddings, in Congress, for the slave; Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.
I hear the voice of thousands, of thousands, of thousands, I hear the voice of thousands, in favor of “Disunion;” Oh! set the captive free, set him free, set him free, Oh! set the captive free from his chains.
From the crack of the rifle and baying of hound, Takes the poor panting bondman his flight; His couch through the day is the cold damp ground, But northward he runs through the night. Chorus. O, God speed the flight of the desolate slave, Let his heart never yield to despair; There is room ’mong our hills for the true and the brave, Let his lungs breathe our free northern air!
O, sweet to the storm-driven sailor the light, Streaming far o’er the dark swelling wave; But sweeter by far ’mong the lights of the night, Is the star of the north to the slave. O, God speed, &c.
Cold and bleak are our mountains and chilling our winds, But warm as the soft southern gales Be the hands and the hearts which the hunted one finds, ’Mong our hills and our own winter vales. O, God speed, &c.
Then list to the ’plaint of the heart-broken thrall, Ye blood-hounds, go back to your lair; May a free northern soil soon give freedom to all, Who shall breathe in its pure mountain air. O, God speed, &c.
Is there a man that never sighed To set the prisoner free? Is there a man that never prized The sweets of liberty? Then let him, let him breathe unseen, Or in a dungeon live; Nor never, never know the sweets That liberty can give.
Is there a heart so cold in man, Can galling fetters crave? Is there a wretch so truly low, Can stoop to be a slave? O, let him, then, in chains be bound, In chains and bondage live; Nor never, never know the sweets That liberty can give.