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| Text: | American Slavery |
The land our fathers left to us
Is foul with hateful sin;
When shall, O Lord, this sorrow end,
And hope and joy begin?
What good, though growing might and wealth
Shall stretch from shore to shore,
If thus the fatal poison-taint
Be only spread the more?
Wipe out, O God, the nation’s sin,
Then swell the nation’s power;
But build not high our yearning hopes,
To wither in an hour!
No outward show nor fancied strength
From Thy stern justice saves;
There is no liberty for them
Who make their brethren slaves!
| Text Information | |
|---|---|
| First Line: | The land our fathers left to us |
| Title: | American Slavery |
| Meter: | C. M. |
| Language: | English |
| Publication Date: | 1866 |
| Notes: | Public Domain. |
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