Thousands of other little girls like me,
Wait in the South-land to be free;
And thousands, under whip and chain,
Grow old and weep, and wait in vain.
Dear friends, a word from all the free,
Can make those thousands glad like me;
The prayers and deeds of good and brave,
Shall strike the chain from every slave:
And when their cruel wrongs shall cease,
This groaning nation shall have peace.
