The Great Trek and the Republics_ (1836_1899)
962 Words
I. The Rising of the Wagons
The Cape was ruled by a foreign hand,
A crown that tried to tame the land.
The English laws, so stern, so cold,
Pressed hard upon the Afrikaner bold.
They taxed their trade, their oxen bound,
Their voices silenced by command.
And so, in faith and stubborn pride,
The wagons called — the land was wide.
By 1836’s early dawn,
The Voortrekkers rose, their hearts were drawn
To open veld and distant skies,
Where liberty would never die.
They left their farms, their homes, their kin,
For God, their creed, and freedom’s hymn.
Oxen groaned beneath their load,
As the wheels sank deep into the dusty road.
Each trek was long, each night a trial,
Yet courage burned in every mile.
The veld stretched vast, both harsh and fair,
The wind blew wildly through endless air.
They sang of psalms, of saints, of God,
Their faith is a shield against the sod.
And though the road was cruel and mean,
Their spirits burned, their hearts were keen.
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II. Mountains and Rivers
The Drakensberg loomed sharp and high,
It's peaks like spears against the sky.
The trekkers climbed through snow and rain,
And felt the land’s majestic pain.
The rivers roared, the forests deep,
The wild was theirs, yet never cheap.
Each crossing tested strength and will,
Yet hearts persisted, never still.
They met the Ndebele, proud and strong,
Whose kingdom stretched both broad and long.
Some traded goods, some clashed in strife,
Yet all became entwined with life.
The Zulu rose, fierce shield in hand,
To guard their valley, river, and land.
The Voortrekkers fought, they wept, they prayed,
And through it all, their faith was displayed.
They carved their farms from rocky ground,
Their wagons circled, and homes were found.
Church bells rang out in the open air,
A testament to God’s great care.
And from this trek, both harsh and long,
Was born a proud and strong.
No longer bound to Cape’s tight chain,
Their freedom coursed through every vein.
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III. The Birth of Republics
By 1852, the sun arose,
On fields where freedom’s seed would close.
The Orange Free State, proud and fair,
Declared itself beyond all care.
The Transvaal rose, a sister state,
Determined by both God and fate.
Republics built on faith and hand,
The Afrikaner carved his land.
Their flags flew high, their law was theirs,
Their judges just, their council fares.
They farmed, they mined, they taught, they prayed,
And kept the faith their forebears laid.
Yet threats abounded from afar,
The British Crown still claimed its star.
And as the gold and diamonds gleamed,
Empire’s shadow softly dreamed.
The people knew their lives were grave,
Yet held their children, land to save.
Their songs of psalms, their guns, their creed,
Prepared them all for future needs.
The veldt, the bush, the river, the hill,
Were theirs to guard by God’s own will.
And so their nations stood and grew,
Where freedom’s flame forever flew.
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IV. Faith and Fire
In every home, the Bible lay,
A lamp to guide both night and day.
The Sunday bell, the psalmist’s voice,
Were anchors firm, their souls’ true choice.
The men would ride through the veldt and plain,
Defending home through toil and pain.
The women wove their courage strong,
Their children sang the righteous song.
Yet trials came, both fierce and stark,
Disease, drought, and bandits’ mark.
The Afrikaner met each test,
With faith in God and stubborn zest.
They built their churches, schools, and farms,
Defended all with fearless arms.
And through the fires, both pain and strife,
They forged the soul of Afrikaner life.
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V. The Shadow of Empire
The British eyes still scanned the land,
For gold and power, for sovereign hand.
The discovery of diamonds bright,
And gold that gleamed in morning light,
Brought armies, lawmen, soldiers, greed,
And threats to every farmer’s deed.
The peace once held, now thin as thread,
As the empire sought what they had bled.
The Afrikaner braced for war,
Not for conquest, but to guard what’s theirs.
The veldt became both shield and sword,
The prayer of men is their guiding word.
Their republics, small yet brave,
They were built by hands that did not cave.
And in each farm, each field, each town,
The Afrikaner would not bow down.
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VI. Life on the Edge
The farms were spread across the plain,
From Limpopo to Vaal’s domain.
The winters are harsh, the summers are dry,
Yet still they lived, they did not die.
They hunted game, they tilled the land,
Each fence post is set by careful hand.
Their livestock thrived, their children grew,
And all their lives were lived in view
Of God above, whose guiding light,
Shone on them through the darkest night.
The frontier towns began to rise,
With timber, stone, and prayer-filled skies.
The Voortrekkers’ legacy took hold,
Of courage, faith, and hearts bold.
Each generation learned to stand,
To guard their homes, their faith, their land.
The veldt, the bush, the mountains high,
Became the cradle of Afrikaner pride.
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VII. The March Toward Conflict
As gold and diamonds lured the Crown,
The British came to seize renown.
The Transvaal braced, the Free State stood,
Prepared to guard their father’s goods.
And though the peace had held so long,
The drums of war began their song.
The Afrikaner, faith in hand,
Resolved to fight and guard their land.
The Great Trek’s spirit is still alive,
Within each man, it would survive.
The wagons’ wheels, the psalms, the fire,
Burned ever bright in heart’s desire.
For freedom, faith, and soil they knew,
Were gifts their fathers’ hands once drew.
And as the century came to a close,
The Afrikaner prepared for foes.
- Writer
