Classic Poem

Eternal Father! thou hast made
A num'rous family thy care;
Nor sable hue, nor caste, nor grade,
Excludes the meanest from thy share.

Of kindred blood, and flesh the same,
In thy pure sight of equal worth;
Then why should one the sceptre claim,
And crush his brother to the earth?

Why should the sighing bondman grope
A cheerless journey to the tomb;
No star to guide—no ray of hope,
To shine upon the darksome gloom.

Wilt thou not hear, and set them free,—
The down-cast slaves—for whom we plead;
And make our land, as it should be,
A free and happy land indeed?