Classic Poem

Hear ye not the voice of anguish,
In our own — our native land?
Brethren, doom'd in chains to languish,
Lift to heaven the fetter'd hand;
And despairing,
Death, to end their grief, demand.

Let us raise our supplication,
For the scourg'd, the suff'ring slave —
All whose life is desolation,
All whose hope is in the grave;
God of Mercy!
From thy throne, Oh! hear and save.

Those in bonds we would remember;
Lord! our hands with theirs are bound!
With each helpless, suff'ring member,
Let our sympathies be found,
Till our labors
Spread the smile of freedom round.

Even now the word is spoken!
" Lo! the tyrant's pow'r must cease!
From the slave the chain be broken! "
Captives! hail the kind release;
Then in splendor
Christ shall reign, the Prince of Peace.