Her husband still doomed in its desert to stay;
No arm to protect from the tyrant’s aggression—
She must weep as she treads on her desolate way.
O, slave mother, hope! see—the nation is shaking!
The arm of the Lord is awake to thy wrong!
The slave-holder’s heart now with terror is quaking,
Salvation and Mercy to Heaven belong!
Rejoice, O, rejoice! for the child thou art rearing,
May one day lift up its unmanacled form,
While hope, to thy heart, like the rain-bow so cheering,