The Lancashire Hymn. Poem by Samuel Bamford

Part 1
Great God! who did of old inspire
The patriot's ardent heart,
And fill'd him with a warm desire
To die, or do his part.
O let our shouts be heard by thee,
Genius great of liberty.

Here 'fore creation's million worlds,
Our wrongs we do proclaim,
And when thy banner thou unfurls,
We will redress the same.
Triumph ever waits on thee
God of love and liberty.

When fell oppression o'er the land,
Hung like a darksome day;
And crush'd beneath a tyrant's hand
A groaning people lay;
The patriot band, impell'd by thee,
Nobly strove for Liberty.

And, shall we tamely now forego
The rights for which they bled!
And crouch beneath a minion's blow,
And basely bow the head?
Ah! no—it cannot, cannot be;
Death for us, or Liberty.

Part 2.

Behold! yon midnight dark divan,
The plunderers of our right,
Fell sorcerers, mustering ev'ry ban
Our happiness to blight;
Why lingers yet the nation's ire,
Why bursteth not the flood of fire?

The dungeon door hath opened wide,
Its victims to immure;
And blood hath yonder scaffold dyed,
Betray'd by hellish lure.
O Justice, why so long delay,
To bare thy sword of equity?

Have we not heard the infant cry,
And mark'd its mother's tear;
That look which told us mournfully,
That woe and want were there.
And shall they ever weep again?
And shall their pleadings be in vain?

By the dear blood of Hampden shed,
In freedom's noble strife,
By gallant Sydney's gory head,
By all that's dear to life,
They shall not supplicate in vain!
No longer will we bear the chain!

Souls of our mighty sires, behold,
This band of brothers join,
O never, never be it told,
That we disgrace your line
If England wills the glorious deed,
We'll have another Runnimede.