There was joy in heaven!—O'er the angels it shone,
A smile from Jehovah glow'd,—
The "still small voice" from the awful Throne
Had breathed on that obdurate heart of stone,
And the rock like a river flow'd.
AFRICA.
Land of the wise!—where science broke
Like morning from chaotic deeps,
Where Moses, holy prophet, woke,
Where Parsons, youthful martyr, sleeps;—
Land of the brave!—where Carthage rear'd
'Gainst haughty Rome a warrior's crest,
Where Cato, like a god revered,
Indignant pierced his patriot breast;—
Land of the scorn'd, the exiled race,
Who fainting 'neath oppressive toil,
With never-ceasing sighs retrace
Their palm-tree's shade, their fathers' soil;
Shall blest Benevolence extend
Her angel reign from sea to sea,
Nor yet one glance of pity bend
Deserted Africa! on thee?—
Did Nature bid the torrid skies
Glare fiercely o'er thy desert glade?—
In heathen gloom benight thine eyes
And cloud thy brow with ebon shade?—
