Workmen's advocate., 1889-06-15

Oh men of America, hear the voice of the people e-PARsoNs,
 Go to, now, ye rich men, weep and howl for the miseries that shall come upon you.-JAME. We are coming, we the people, Rising in our conscious pOw'r; Many ages have we waited,
 Hungered, thirsted for this hour. For the tyrant and oppressOr In our presence soon shall Cow'r. We are coming, we the people,
 From the factory and mine, From the workshop; from all places Where earthS wretched tOilers pine, Fen as captives toll in prison,
 Where the suns rays seldom shine. We are coming, we the people,
 We, the outcast and oppressed We, the scorn'd of all the nations, Coming on from east and west, North and south the wide world over. Like the sea which knows no rest. We are coming to our kingdom, Pressing on to claim our own. We shall rear the golden city" This our task and ours alone. Yes-the stone, so long rejected, Shall become it's corner stone. Tremble, tyrants! Blench, ye despots "Weep and howl" ye rich and proud, For your pow'r at length is shattered. See, in yonder sky, the cloud, Soon to burst in retribution
 Ger your heads in anguish bOw'd.  Ye have lived in ease and splendor; Luxury has been your bane. Yours the "purple and fine linen" Ours the sweat, the toll, the pain Ours the crumbs and rags of Laz'rus- Yet we must not cen complain. Tho our toll has re-created
 This fair earth on which we dwell, Ye, who toll mol, have possessed it, While ye banished us to hell, To the tenements, whose horrors Tongue of mortal scarce may tell, In these foul and noisome dwellings,, Human beings have been born Born with features wan and haggard, Aged infants, sad, forlorn, Such have been our wretched offspring, Objects for the lordlings scOrn. Ere their tiny feet could toddle,
 Driven forth to earn their bread How our hearts have thrilled with rap-
 ture
 At the words, "Your child is dead" An. that we might rest beside him, In his lowly pauper bed. All our grief was for the living;
 They alone demanded tears. How could we refrain from weeping Over all the weary years Thro' which. they should toll and suffer ? How allay our anxious fears? In the mansions of our masters
 Childhood blossoms bright and fair. Stunted forms and pallid faces,
 Marked by misery, want and care, Are the portion of our lov'd ones.
 Oh! these things are hard to bear, Yes, but we have borne them, comrades, Toiled and suffered every wrong. Every form of foul oppression
 From the mighty and the strong, Unto Heaven in vain appealing
 God of justice, Oh, how long? We have seen our maiden daughters, Mothers, sisters, sweethearts, wives, Forced to barter woman's honor,
 To prolong their wretched lives; While upon their unpaid labor
 Capital, the monster, thrives. While the high-born dame of fashion Sheds hypocritic tear Der the fate of "those poor outcasts," And contributes every year To the ''homes for fallen women,"
 So far from her social sphere. Shall we bear these woes forever,
 Ever abject and supine? Shall that potentate called Mammon
 Reign for aye by right divine? Ha. the gods great mills grind slowly, But they grind exceedingly fine. No, the time has come for action;
 Freedoms voice is heard at last, Calling to the sleeping nations
 Mammon's minions stand aghast. And the peoples foes shall vanish
 Like dry leaves before the blast. An. the message wire proclalming
 Animates the very stones. Lo. behold mighty army
 Where but now were bleaching bones Hear our proclamation echoed
 In the crash of falling thrones. As they catch that far-off echo,
 How the hearts of men are stirred, L Al I