46

Prisoners' Evening Hymn.

Still feeding all thy flowers with light,

Though man hath barr'd it from our sight. We know Thou reign'st, the Unchanging One, th' All Just!

And bless thee still with free and boundless trust!

We read no more, O God! thy ways.
On earth, in these wild evil days,
The red sword in the oppressor's hand
Is ruler of the weeping land;
Fallen are the faithful and the pure,
No shrine is spared, no hearth secure,
Yet, by the deep voice from the past,
Which tells us these things cannot last-
And by the hope which finds no ark,
Save in thy breast, when storms grow dark-
We trust thee !-As the sailor knows
That in its place of bright repose

His pole-star burns, though mist and cloud
May veil it with a midnight shroud.

We know thou reign'st!-All Holy One, All Just!
And bless thee still with love's own boundless trust.

We feel no more that aid is nigh,

When our faint hearts within us die.
We suffer-and we know our doom
Must be one suffering till the tomb.

Prayer for the Oppressed.

Yet, by the anguish of thy Son
When his last hour came darkly on-
By his dread cry, the air which rent
In terror of abandonment-

47

And by his parting word, which rose
Through faith victorious o'er all woes-
We know that Thou mayst wound, mayst

break

The spirit, but wilt ne'er forsake!

Sad suppliants whom our brethren spurn,
In our deep need to Thee we turn!

To whom but Thee?-All Merciful, All Just!
In life, in death, we yield thee boundless trust.

Prayer for the Oppressed.

XXV.

PIERPONT.

WITH thy pure dews and rains,
Wash out, O God, the stains
From Afric's shore;

And, while her palm trees bud,

Let not her children's blood

With her broad Niger's flood

Be mingled more !

48

Prayer for the Oppressed.

Quench, righteous God, the thirst
That Congo's sons hath cursed-
The thirst for gold!

Shall not thy thunders speak,
Where Mammon's altars reek,
Where maids and matrons shriek,
Bound, bleeding, sold?

Hear'st thou, O God, those chains,
Clanking on Freedom's plains,
By Christians wrought!

Them, who those chains have worn,
Christians from home have torn,

Christians have hither borne,
Christian's have bought!

Cast down, great God, the fanes,
That, to unhallowed gains,

Round us have risen

Temples, whose priesthood pore

Moses and Jesus o'er,

Then bolt the black man's door,

The poor man's prison !

Wilt thou not, Lord, at last,

From thine own image, cast

Self-Reproof.

Away all cords,

But that of love, which brings
Man, from his wanderings,
Back to the King of kings,
The Lord of lords!

Self-Reproof.

XXVI.

LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.

WHEN injured Afric's captive claim,
Loads the sad gale with startling moan,
The frown of deep indignant blame
Bend not on Southern climes alone.

Her toil, and chain, and scalding tear,
Our daily board with luxuries deck,
And to dark slavery's yoke severe,

Our Fathers help'd to bow her neck.

If slumbering in the thoughtful breast,
Or justice or compassion dwell,

Call from their couch the hallowed guest,
The deed to prompt, the prayer to swell.

49

50

Hope and Faith.

Oh, lift the hand, and Peace shall bear
Her olive where the palm tree grows,
And torrid Afric's desert share

The fragrance of salvation's rose.

But if with Pilate's stoic eye,

We calmly wash when blood is spilt ;
Or deem a cold, unpitying sigh,
Absolves us from the stain of guilt;

Or if, like Jacob's recreant train,
Who traffick'd in a Brother's wo,
We hear the suppliant plead in vain,
Or mock his tears that wildly flow;

Will not the judgments of the skies,
Which threw a shield round Joseph sold,
Be roused by fetter'd Afric's cries,
And change to dross th' oppressor's gold!

Hope and Faith.

XXVII.

WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.

YE who in bondage pine,
Shut out from light divine,