Placed on the auction-block, with chattels sold,
Driven like beasts of burden day by day,
The flock be scattered from the shepherd’s fold,
The spoiler’s prey?
How long—thy people cry—O Lord, how long!
Shall not thine arm “shake down the bolted fire!”
Can deeds like these of God-defying wrongs,
Escape His ire?
Must judgments,—such as swept with fearful tread
O’er Egypt when she made thy people slaves,