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AVAST outstretching land, Nursing within its breast Pace upon race of Ebon' Black On whom a ban cloth rest. In ages far remote. Through their offending sire, The sons of Ham beneath this curse Were placed by Prophet's ire. And everywhere I turn, Marks of this curse I see, Upon the race, or land and stream, Or beast and bird and tree. Trees clad with brilliant flowers Of ever varying hue, Yet deeply pierced by cankering blight, Or teaching man to rue Their touch by poisonous thorn Beneath the leaves deep hid, Or bristling as the porcupine, His hand defiance bid. Birds, dazzling, in the air The rainbow seem to pale, Yet jar the ear with piercing scream, Or sad discordant wail. The beasts roam after prey, And show by angry roar How all creation still doth groan,—This weary land yet more. The streams ! no pen of mine Could ever half describe
How Nature's very choicest gems So richly crowd their sides. Trees upward stretch, until Their leaves are lost to sight; While every branch a creeper holds And ferns and orchids bright. But 'neath that rippling wave, The crocodiles lie there; While foul Miasma nightly sows Its germs on evening air. The Land so rich, 'twould grow Whate'er you like to name; Yet chiefly now producing thorns, Or parched from lack of rain. A hundred miles at stretch I've walked with weary foot, And met no hand to ROW the soil Or plant the pleasant root. And these vast tribes of men, In ignorance so deep, About their souls eternal weal Are still fast, lulled to sleep. The medicine-man Neves sway. His fetish holds their mind. Black magic and the charms for rain, These poor dark Heathen blind; And creel wars for slaves Still rage on every hand. Drag vivo; mid children from their hoeus, And devastate the land. Surely the curse remains, This hour is unremoved; Yet who will say these souls arc not By Jesus deeply loved?
Did He not die for these Was Ham's accursed race Excluded from Salvation's plan, When framed by love and grace? Alas! the curse remains Becautio our steps are slow To hurry forth to preach the Word, And to these regions go. Our hearts ore loth to spare *rho substance (kid bath lent. That teachers with the word of truth May to this land bo sent. The watchword, "Half as much again," Has reached this distant shore But harem here now raise the cry, Brothers! we ask still more! We ask for "twice as much" Heartfelt and earnest prayer, We ask, too, in your interest, Just "twice as much" to share. We ask that twice our men, Yes, twice us many more, Be sent with Jesit'it loving words To preach on A fries shore. And then, for alms, we know That "half as much again" Will fall on this poor Heathen soil As sweetly drops the rain. The barren ground, with joy. Will blossom as the rose. And Jesus with His banner. Love, Win triumphs o'er His foes!
