Classic Poem

Oh! if to Afric's sable race
A fearful debt you justly owe,
If heav'n's dread book record the trace
Of ev'ry deed and thought below;

And if for them the Christian pray'r
Implores of God to guide and save,
Then let these helpless suppliants share
From mercy's store the mite they crave.

Touch deep for them the pitying breast,
Bid bounty's stream flow warm and free,
For who can tell, among the blest
How sweet their songs of praise may be?