Heard (Henderson), Josephine D.
THY weary feet have pressed once more thy native soil,
After the weeks and days of care and toil,
And loyal hearts whose friendship ever is true,
Have come to bid a Welcome Home to you.
Our bosoms swelling with an honest pride,
As swells the lover's heart who claims his bride,
With pleasure and with joy, we grasp thy hand
And bid thee welcome to thy native land.
Like silvery star that glint and gleams at night,
Gladdening the wanderer's heart who seeks the light,
Like France who turned to her Joan of Arc,
We follow thee to victory from the dark.
Even though the call was made from distant land,
"Come join us sisters of the Missionary Band."
The bugle sound fell on thy willing ear,
And to thy faithful bosom came no fear.
And waiting noto rate the fearful cost,
In duty's call absorbed, all else is lost;
Through heat or cold, where'er thy path hath led,
Thine energies were bent, thy footsteps sped.
Thy fearless heart that knew not how to falter,
Laid quick thine all on sacrificial altar,
The dear ones of thy heart, thy friends and home,
And dared to brave old ocean's turbid foam.
For thee, the much oppressed Hammitic race
May justly claim a worthy heroine's place,
With those whose courage ne'er was known to flank,
Place Fanny Jackson Coppin in the foremost rank.
And may thy noble deeds be told in verse and song,
To those unborn who shall our places throng,
When o'er our dust the weeping willow waves,
And we shall calmly sleep within our graves.