Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/80
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STANZAS.
And, lo! behind yon tyrant fierce His valiant conqueror stands;With love unknown He claims His own, And plucks them from his hand.
The Negro Convert.
I heard that Negro, on his lowly bed, Thus forced to bid to earthly hopes adieu: I heard him pray for mercy on the head Of him, whose bitter wrath his brother slew! Lowly he lay, but still the sufferer knew, That more than his the heavenly Master bore, When on the cross, exposed to public view, His dying breath forgiveness did implore,For those whose hellish hate was glutted with his gore.
Slave masters! such is pure Religion's power! These are the morals Christ's disciples preach! Let interest alone, then rule the hour, And still this gospel will your servants reach! Shame! that it should be needful to beseech A British subject, in these polished days, To let a godly man draw near, and teach His heathen household, Britain's God to praise,And train their souls to walk in Wisdom's pleasant ways!
Stanzas.
Morn's earliest blush with frowning dyes Proclaims Night's empire done,And soon the full-orbed power will rise Of Day's creative sun.
At such an hour, 'tis sweet to mark Nature's unruffled state,And hear the matin-hailing lark Carol at Heaven's own gate:
And view the pearls displayed by Night, As sparkling on each spray,They catch the morn's reflected light, And glistening melt away;