Where Britannia's emerald isles
Gem the Caribbean sea,
And an endless summer smiles,
Lo! the negro thrall is free!
Yet not on Columbia's plains,
Hath the sun of freedom risen:
Here, in darkness and in chains,
Toiling millions pine in prison.
Shout! ye islands disenthralled,
Point the finger, as in scorn,
At a country that is called
Freedom's home, where men are born
Heirs, for life, to chains and whips,-
Bondmen, who have never known
Wife, child, parent, that their lips
Ever dared to call their own.
Yet, a Christian land is this!
Yea, and ministers of Christ
Slavery's foot, in homage, kiss;
And their brother, who is priced
Higher than their Saviour, even,
Do they into bondage sell;-
Pleading thus the cause of Heaven,
Serving thus the cause of hell.
Holy Father, let thy word,
Spoken by thy prophets old,
By the pliant priest be heard;
And let lips, that now are cold,
(Chilled by Mammon's golden wand!)
With our nation's 'burden' glow,
Till the free man and the bond
Shout for Slavery's overthrow!