Oak And Ivy.<br><br>They tread the fields where honor calls;<br>Their voices sound through senate halls<br>In majesty and power.<br>To right they cling; the hymns they sing<br>Up to the skies in beauty ring,<br>And bolder grow each hour.<br><br>Be proud, my Race, in mind and soul;<br>Thy name is writ on Glory's scroll<br>In characters of fire.<br>High 'mid the clouds of Fame's bright sky<br>Thy banner's blazoned folds now fly,<br>And truth shall lift them higher.<br><br>Thou hast the right to noble pride,<br>Whose spotless robes were purified<br>By blood's severe baptism.<br>Upon thy brow the cross was laid,<br>And labor's painful sweat-beads made<br>A consecrating chrism.<br><br>No other race, or white or black,<br>When bound, as thou wert, to the rack,<br>So seldom stooped to grieving;<br>No other race, when free again,<br>Forgot the past and proved them men<br>So noble in forgiving.<br><br>Go on and up! Our souls and eyes<br>Shall follow thy continuous rise;<br>Our ears shall list thy story<br>From bards which from thy root shall spring,<br>And proudly tune their lyres to sing<br>Of Ethiopia's glory.