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Poetry: The Slave At Midnight

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Uix'ii II IS cantv bod of ntrnw, Weil dr.oiiclj (I by sonkifig mms, The iha'njjicil Slnvc, down crtiüijcd ly Late, Iritai!iiesátliiiscomis. i Thrfe yars Tve loüed, tien"tli iije!nsl, O'tTWOc k'd, bui nol half ioti, Whilü winiry wiuds, ttI Minnner'a heat, Have bn;it uuoti niy.h.oiid. My wife ontl cíiiltircn hae been eold, Andscniterd farnway, To Bate ilie Tvrunt'f iiff8i tor go'd, Or lo liis Iusl6 a prey. And I ntn doam'd to lioar the icora Ana scorn ot criu;! men; In cliairis l'vc toilod - 'nnd niglis und tcars - Hoped, nnd despair'd ugain. Is there n God - who marks my woes - A 6iiavonng God? AnJ d(io he nole Uie Tyrant's blows, My tears, und siiea;ning boud? Or, c!or?s lic fanction, in liis Word, As Ministers pretend,) Tint. cruel system? How absurd! But will il ever end? Yes! it will end! For ti:cre's a Gud Wiio he-ïre nnd iinewers prnyer : Kor enn lie s-nnction, or npjirove, The cbniiis wl:ic!i bondmen wt-ar. " q Tu're is a God whose oye beliolds, Tlie p;iff rinp-s I enciure: Wliosc wratl: will pierce tlieguiliy sou! Of those who scem .secme. Tiic proufl o,-ipre?8or soon sliall qunil Belbre Ws dreadfnl ire; And in eternily thall waij ,!r-qio: '-■ Amid dovouring, tire. Aiiil- !o my rest! For eoon the cali To dnily ta&k will Bojipfj: O Lord! Sincethoi art good to all, To me let grace abound.Th-ie moanrd tho Slavc, imtüre nï& Toeeek repoyo itiKleep: A few briofliours no fcUeis dank Nor is he hcard lo weop. At niorning's clawñ, the driver's lneh Wil! roiifc l'im to liicitoil: And ihcii"!) botn mind and body crash, Thousands v. ]1 eiland sinilc.