A Voice from the Land of Bondage, by Sarah J. Williams
* * * * * *
A sound arose, -- the voice of ancient wrong,
Like rushing mighty waters, or the wind
Sweeping through those old woods, that echoed long
Wailings, until they left a voice behind,
And thus it spake -- * * *
"Think ye that slavery, which can conform
Man to the image of a brute, doth bring
'Neath its dominion but the outward form?
In limb and sinews only hath he been
The bruised, broken reed which ye have seen?
"Think ye, your ancestors, when first they brought
To these fair isles the curse of slavery,
Merely some links of brass and iron wrought
Into a chain? Can your state policy,
As hammers on the anvil, at one stroke
Sever the fetters they imposed, and give
To those who once have passed beneath the yoke,
And learnt but as another's tool to live,
The hearts, the minds, the feelings of the free,
The elevating thoughts that wait on Liberty?
"Those they oppressed have spirits; -- can ye there
Trace where the iron entered? Can ye see
All that came with those chains, of which they were
Only the emblems, the mere imagery?
The mandates of your senates cannot reach
The bands impalpable that chain the soul, --
Fear, superstition, ignorance; nor teach
The mind to break at once from their control:
A higher power these evils must dispel,
'Tis yours the teachings of that power to tell.
"'Come unto me, all ye that labour, come
Ye heavy-laden, I will give you rest.'
It is the import of these words brought home
Unto the spirit, maketh it possess'd
Of all that sanctifieth liberty;
Soft as refreshing gales breathe forth that word,
As music o'er the waters let it be,
Here then in blessings will your names be heard:
How beautiful the feet of those who bring
Glad tidings to a heart long suffering!
"Deliverance to the slave! What heart now cold,
What spirits mingled with the holy dead,
Have throbbed, have toiled, and struggled to behold
The moment when that mandate should be read:
Ye who have entered to their labours, ye
Who reap what they have sown, to you appears
The dawn, and blessed are your eyes which see
The light, theirs sought with weariness and tears:
Now be their names your watch-word -- be ye still
Fervent, the work of glory to fulfil.
"'Tis something glorious to civilize
Beings, whose powers have to themselves been lost,
To teach the expanding faculties to prize
Science, and all her pleasure-yielding host;
'Tis more, to give an anchor to the soul,
Steadfast and sure; to guide its course aright
By love, that would be mighty to control,
Shewn by example in its holiest light:"
Oh! that a thrilling voice like this might come,
From those far isles, and reach us in our home.
There, though oppression long hath shed its blight,
And made all light unto the spirit dim,
Friends of the Negro! Lo! "The fields are white
Already to the harvest. Pray ye Him
Who is the Lord of harvests, to send forth
Labourers into the harvest." May His peace
Rest on that long-polluted spot of earth,
Making all cruelty and strife to cease.
Late, tyrants claimed its people as their own,
Now, may they be our God's, and His alone!
S. J. W.