Ages, ages have departed,

Since the first dark vessel bore

Afric’s children, broken-hearted,

To this far-off western shore;

She, like Rachel,

Weeping, for they were no more.

Millions, millions have been slaughtered

In the fight and on the deep;

Millions, millions more have watered,

With such tears as captives weep,

Fields of labor

Where their wasted bodies sleep.

Mercy, mercy, vainly pleading,

Rends her garments, smites her breast,

Till a voice from heaven proceeding

Gladden all the waiting west:

“Come, ye weary!

Come, and I will give you rest!”

Tidings, tidings of salvation!

Brothers, rise with one accord,

Purge the plague-spot from our nation,

Till, unto their rights restored,

Slaves no longer,

All are freemen in the Lord!