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I WILL PRAISE THE LORD AT ALL TIMES.
Winter has a joy for me,
Spring returns, and brings along
Summer has a thousand charms,
What, has autumn left to say
THE LIGHT AND GLORY OF THE WORD.
Light appears with early dawn;
Ev'ning, with a silent pace,
THE LIGHT AND GLORY OF THE WORD,
The Spirit breathes upon the word,
And brings the truth to fight; Precepts and promises afford
A sanctifying light.
A glory gilds the sacred págę,
Majestic like the sun;
It gives, but borrows none.
The hand that gave it still supplies
The gracious light and heat;
They rise but never set.
For such a bright display,
With beams of heav'nly day.
The steps of Him I love;
In brighter worlds above.
THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT.
Forc'd from home, and all its pleasures
Afric's coast I left forlorn;
O’er the raging billows borne.
Paid my price in paltry gold;
Minds are never to be sold.
Still in thought as free as ever,
What are England's rights, I ask, Me from my delights to fever,
Me to torture, me to tak? Fleecy locks, and black complexion
Cannot forfeit nature's claim; Skins may differ, but affection
Dwells in white and black the fame.
Why did all-creating Nature
Make the plant for which we toil? Sighs must fan it, tears must water,
Sweat of ours must drefs the foil Think, ye masters, iron-hearted,
Lolling at your jovial boards; Think how many backs have fmarted
For the sweets your canc affords.
Is there, as ye
sometimes tell us, Is there One who reigns on high? Has he bid you buy and sell us,
Speaking from his throne the sky? Afk bim, if your knotted scourges,
Matches, blood-extorting screws, Are the means which duty urges
Agents of his will to use ?
Hark! he answers-Wild tornadoes,
Strewing yonder fea with wrecks; Wasting towns, plantations, meadows,
Are the voice with which he speaks. He, foreseeing what vexations
Afric's sons should undergo, Fix'd their tyrant's habitations
Where his whirlwinds answer-No.
By our blood in Afric wasted,
Ere our necks receiv'd the chain; By the mis’ries we have tasted,
Crossing in your barks the main; By our suff'rings since ye brought us
To the man-degrading mart; All sustain'd by patience, taught us
Only by a broken heart:
Deem our nation brutes no longer
shall find Worthier of regard, and stronger
Than the colour of our kind. Slaves of gold, whose fordid dealings
Tarnish all your boasted pow'rs, Prove that you have human feelings,
Ere you proudly question ours !