Classic Poem

And dost thou think I could forget,
In selfish ease content,
Those who, beneath a bitter yoke,
On freedom's soil are bent?
That earthly friends, or earth's applause,
Could win me from the bondman's cause?

No—mine is but a woman's heart,
A woman's feeble hand;
But yet on thee and me is laid
The Savior's blest command,
To give to others e'en the same
We would from others' bounty claim.

And while I know a woman's form
Is scourg'd, and bound, and driv'n—
That all the ties to woman dear,
Are daily, hourly riv'n—
Shall I with silent heart and tongue,
Behold, nor dare rebuke the wrong?

No, while my heart hath warmth, my God!
Or life hath earthly breath,
Though friends, and fame, and love depart,
In life and still in death,
I'll plead for those who've none to save—
E'en for the suff'ring dying slave!