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Forget that Simon's countrymen Still bear a cross of shame?
Can they forget the cruel scorn Men shower on a raceWho treat the hues their Father gives As emblems of disgrace?
Will they erect to God their fanes And Christ with honor crown,And then with cruel weights of pain The African press down?
Oh, Christians, when we faint and bleed In this our native land,Reach out to us when peeled, opprest, A kindly helping hand,
And bear aloft that sacred cross, Bright from the distant years,And say for Christ's and Simon's sake, We'll wipe away your tears.
For years of sorrow, toil and pain We'll bring you love and light,And in the name of Christ our Lord We'll make your pathway bright.
That seamless robe shall yet enfold The children of the sun,Till rich and poor and bond and free In Christ shall all be one.
