Slave Woman’s Prayer

Written Under the Picture of the Kneeling Slave
     God of the humble! Thou
     To whom all nations bow,
As to one Father to implore thy grace;
     O, from thy throne above,
     Look down in saving love,
On the scorned offspring of a trampled race.

     Derided, from my birth,
     By the proud ones of earth,
Where could I turn but unto thee, O God?—
     The white man’s God, and mine,
     Whose power, in love divine,
Hath made all nations of one common blood.

     Father, my brow is dark;
     The sun-god’s sable mark
Set on his children in their far-off land,
     Where his unclouded rays
     Pour down their welcome blaze,
To paint the hills of Afric’s golden strand

     But wherefore should that stain
     Have doomed me to the chain,
And all my kindred to a life of wo?
     Why should that sable has
     A nation’s pride undo,
And bid the streams of cruel hatred flow!

     We know that thou art just
     In whom we put our trust,
That unto thee all righteousness belongs;
     For this, a fettered slave
     Help from thy arm would crave,
To break her chains, and recompense her wrongs.

     O melt the tyrant’s heart!—
     That he may know the part
Evil and dark, his cruel hands have done;
     And knowing, turn for aye
     From evil deeds away;
Free the down-trodden, and oppression shun.

     O in thy mercy speed,
     Help in this hour of need,
Spirit and festering limb unbind again
     And gracious Lord to thee
     Praise and loud thanks shall be
Now and forever more ascribed;—Amen.