THE ABOLITIONIST HYMN

We ask not that the slave should lie

As lies his master, at his ease,

Beneath a silken canopy,

Or in the shade of blooming trees.

We ask not “eye for eye,” that all

Who forge the chain and ply the whip

Should feel their torture, while the slave

Should wield the scourge of mastership.

We mourn not that the man should toil,

’Tis nature’s need, ’tis God’s decree;

But let the hand that tills the soil

Be, like the wind that fans it, free.

—ANONYMOUS