And the chains of injustice hung hard by my side.
The tyrant, stern grief, my little children attends,
And tears from their eyes impatiently glide;
They weep and they mourn without comforting friends,
While I in despair shake the chains by my side.
The days and the nights too slow pass away,
And death, though hard by, my pains won’t decide;
Oh! why will he pause and his purpose delay,
For the chains rattle hard which cling to my side.
The morning may dawn when the Heav’ns more kind,