THE NEGROE's PRAYER

Lord, if thou dost with equal eye See all the sons of Adam die; Why dost thou hide thy face from slaves? Consign'd by fate to serve the knaves. Stolen, or sold in Africa, Imported to America, Like hogs and sheep in market sold, To stem the heat and brook the cold. To work all day and half the night, And rise before the morning light; Sustain the lash, endure the pain, Expos'd to storms of snow and rain, Pinch'd both with hunger and with cold, And if we beg, we meet a scold; And after all the tedious round, At night to stretch upon the ground. Has heaven decreed that negroes must By cruel men be ever curs'd; Forever drag the galling chain, And ne'er enjoy themselves again? When will Jehovah hear our cries? When will the sun of freedom rise? When will a Moses for us stand, And free us all from Pharaoh's hand? What tho' our skin be black as jet, Our hair be curl'd, our noses flat, Must we for this no freedom have, Until we find it in the grave?