Escaped from all the perils of the sea,- <br />Storms, shoals,-the angry and engulphing waves,- <br />Here stand we, on a savage shore,-all free, <br />Thy freemen, Lord! and not of man the slaves. <br />Here will we toil and serve thee, till our graves <br />On these bleak hills shall open.-When the blood <br />Thou pourest now so warm along our veins <br />Shall westward flow, till Mississippi's flood <br />Gives to our children's children his broad plains, <br />Ne'er let them wear, O God, or forge a bondman's chains!<br /><br />John Pierpont<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/plymouth-rock/
