THE AFRICAN SERVANT'S PRAYER.
I was a helpless negro boy,
And wandered on the shore;
Men took me from my parents' arms,
I never saw them more.
But yet my lot, which seemed so hard,
Quite otherwise did prove;
For I was carried far from home,
To learn a Saviour's love.
Poor and despiséd though I was,
Yet Thou, O God, wast nigh;
And when Thy mercy first I saw,
Sure none so glad as I.
And if Thy Son hath made me free,
Then am I free indeed;
My soul is rescued from its chains;
For this did Jesus bleed.
Oh, send Thy word to that far land
Where none but negroes live;
Teach them the way, the truth, the life;
Thy grace, Thy blessing give.
Oh, that my father, mother, dear,
Might there Thy mercy see;
Tell them what Christ has done for them,
What Christ has done for me.
Whose God is like the Christian's God?
Who can with Him compare?
He has compassion on my soul,
And hears a negro's prayer.