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!