Classic Poem

Lord! when thine ancient people cried,
Oppress'd with chains by Egypt's king,
Thou didst th' Arabian sea divide,
And forth thy fainting Israel bring.

In this our day, this Christian land
Groans with the anguish of the slave;
Lord God of hosts! stretch forth thy hand,
Not shorten'd that it cannot save.

Roll back the swelling tide of sin,
The lust of gain, the lust of pow'r;
The day of freedom usher in;
Oh! hasten on th' appointed hour.

How long shall Bondmen be forgot:
We watch, we weep, we cry to thee;
Th' oppressor hears, yet heedeth not;
Come! captive lead captivity.

As thou of old to Miriam's hand,
The thrilling timbrel didst restore,
And, to the shout, the echoing land
Replied, from desert to the shore;—

So let thy smitten ones again
Take up the chorus of the free:
“Praise ye the Lord, ye ransom'd men!
For he hath triumph'd gloriously.”