Oh Country, 'tis to thee,
Land of the lynching bee,
To thee we wail.
How long shall these base wrongs
Pollute, thy freedom's songs?
To thee the right belongs
Them to assail.
Our native country, see
How we long to be free
To live and love.
We long to see the time
When this most heinous crime
Shall change to deeds divine,
Like those above.
Let wailings swell on high,
Let rocks, trees, hills, all cry,
'God's will be done:'
Let Christian souls arouse,
Let all our cause espouse
And keep our fathers' vows
Ere ruin come.
Now, gracious God, to Thee
In Thine all-wise mercy,
We do appeal:
May this land soon be brought
Out of this doom it's wrought,
For long, in vain, we've sought
Freedom to feel.