Can it be so? Has God intended
Me to be another's slave?
To toil in anguish, undefended,
From the cradle to the grave;
Yes, and bow my head in sorrow,
Lest I live to see the morrow?

If so, why am I not contented
To endure this hateful chain?
Why have I constantly invented
Schemes my liberty to gain;
And with firm, heroic brav'ry,
Ventur'd my life to flee from slav'ry?

No! God, in truth, condemns a system
That is wretched, vile, and base;
And e'en all nature bids the victim
Of it 'fly from its embrace!'
Now, I bid adieu to slav'ry—
Its woes, its wrongs, its cunning knav'ry.