Father! while the daylight dies,
Hear our grateful voices rise;
For the blessings that we share,
For thy kindness and thy care,
For the joy that fills our breast,
For the love that makes us blest—
We thank thee, Father!

For an earthly father's arm,
Shielding us from wrong and harm;
For a mother's watchful cares,
Mingled with her many pray'rs;
For the happy kindred band,
Midst whose peaceful links we stand—
We bless thee, Father!

Yet while thus our thanks arise,
Underneath these evening-skies,
Father! still we think of those,
Who are bow'd with many woes,
Whom no earthly parent's arm
Can protect from wrong and harm—
The slaves, O Father!

Ah! while we are richly blest,
They are wretched and distress'd;
Outcasts in their native land,
Crush'd beneath oppression's hand,
Scarcely knowing even thee—
Mighty Lord of earth and sea!
Oh! save them, Father!

Touch the flinty hearts, that long
Have, remorseless, done them wrong;
Ope the eyes, that long have been
Blind to this accursed sin;
That the slave—a slave no more—
Grateful thanks to thee may pour,
And bless thee, Father!