| |
| LOUD he sang the psalm of David! | |
| He, a Negro and enslavèd, | |
| Sang of Israel’s victory, | |
| Sang of Zion, bright and free. | |
| |
| In that hour, when night is calmest, | 5 |
| Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist, | |
| In a voice so sweet and clear | |
| That I could not choose but hear, | |
| |
| Songs of triumph, and ascriptions, | |
| Such as reached the swart Egyptians, | 10 |
| When upon the Red Sea coast | |
| Perished Pharaoh and his host. | |
| |
| And the voice of his devotion | |
| Filled my soul with strange emotion; | |
| For its tones by turns were glad, | 15 |
| Sweetly solemn, wildly sad. | |
| |
| Paul and Silas, in their prison, | |
| Sang of Christ, the Lord arisen. | |
| And an earthquake’s arm of might | |
| Broke their dungeon-gates at night. | 20 |
| |
| But, alas! what holy angel | |
| Brings the Slave this glad evangel? | |
| And what earthquake’s arm of might | |
| Breaks his dungeon-gates at night? | |
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