Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Negro Convert

The Negro Convert.

  I heard that Negro, on his lowly bed,   Thus forced to bid to earthly hopes adieu:  I heard him pray for mercy on the head   Of him, whose bitter wrath his brother slew!  Lowly he lay, but still the sufferer knew,   That more than his the heavenly Master bore,  When on the cross, exposed to public view,   His dying breath forgiveness did implore,For those whose hellish hate was glutted with his gore.

  Slave masters! such is pure Religion's power!   These are the morals Christ's disciples preach!  Let interest alone, then rule the hour,   And still this gospel will your servants reach!  Shame! that it should be needful to beseech   A British subject, in these polished days,  To let a godly man draw near, and teach   His heathen household, Britain's God to praise,And train their souls to walk in Wisdom's pleasant ways!