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The Slave Singing at Midnight.


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Bavaria — German Air.

Loud he sang the psalm of David!
He a negro and enslaved
Sang of Israel's glorious vict'ry,
Sang of Zion, bright and free.
In a voice so sweet and clear
That I could not choose but hear
In that hour, when night is calmest,
Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist.

Songs of triumph and ascriptions
Such as reach'd the swart Egyptians,
When upon the Red Sea coast
Perished Pharaoh and his host.
And the voice of his devotion
Fill'd my soul with strange emotion,
For its tones by turns were glad,
Sweetly solemn, wildly sad.

Paul and Silas, in their prison,
Sang of Christ the Lord arisen,
And an earthquake's arm of might
Broke their dungeon-gates at night.
But, alas, what holy angel
Brings the slave this glad evangel?
And what earthquake's arm of might
Breaks his dungeon-gates at night?