THE SLAVE’S PRAYER.
The first effort of my early life in narrative writing, was in behalf of those who, in even darker days than these, were preeminently those who, on earth, “had no helper.”
From this tale is selected these few lines—a song introduced into the story—not because it has any poetic merit, but because to me and perhaps to others, it seems interesting from the above circumstance.
SONG OF PRAISE.
Though man neglects my sighing,
And mocks the bitter tear,
Yet does not God my crying
With kindest pity hear?
And when with fierce heat panting