The Avenger of the Slave

What though the oppressor’s arm is strong,
     And seems his tyrant-grasp secure?
He to whom vengeance doth belong,
     Will vindicate His poor!
Not vainly shall the needy sigh
     Amid his anguish and despair—
A God of justice reigns on high—
     The answerer of prayer!

Long hath the bondman, at his toil,
     Bent, shrieking ‘neath the bloody thong’
Long hath the helpless been the spoil
     Of avarice and wrong—
The needy hath gone down to death,
     Unpitied, and his wrongs forgot
Till in his hear the tyrant saith,
     “The Lord regards it not!”

Vain hope! for hath not ISRAEL’S GOD
     Been from of old consuming fire,
Who in his wrath the people trod,
     And trampled them in ire?
Ad will not he, beneath whose frown
     The pride of Egypt turned to dust,
Smite with his bolts the oppressor down?
     A retribution just!

Tremble! ye despots of our land! 
     For the oppression of the poor,
In judgment God shall lift his hand
     And burst their prison-door!
For He hath heard the captive’s sighs,
     He sees the tears ye cause to flow,
And, girt with vengeance, will arise—
     Wo, to the tyrant!—wo!