Prayer for Zeal and Love. 1 O Lord! whose forming hand one blood To all the tribes and nations gave, And giv'st to all their daily food, Look down in pity on the slave! 2 Fetters and chains and stripes remove, Deliv'rance to the captives give; And pour the tide of light and love Upon their souls, and bid them live. 3 Oh! kindle in our hearts a flame Of zeal, thy holy will to do; And bid each one, who loves thy name, Love all his bleeding brethren too. 4 Through all thy temples, let the stain Of prejudice each bosom flee; And, hand in hand, let Afric's train, With Europe's children, worship thee. 801. 8s. & 7s. M. Mrs. Livermore. Prayer for the Slave. 1 Father, who of old descended From thy throne above the sky, And thine Israel's rights defended, Hear the bondman's anguished cry! 2 Hear how Ethiopia crieth, Kneeling on the blood-stained sod; And how sable Afric' sigheth, Lifting up her hands to God! 3 From the grasp of strong oppression, From the tyrant's rusting chain, And from slavery's deep depression, With its life-long hours of pain; 4 From our country's wide savannas, Let the cry come up to thee, Let the prayers become hosannas-- Father, set thy children free! 802. 7s. M. Mrs. Follen. That God Would hear the Cries of the Slave. 1 Lord! deliver; thou canst save; Save from evil, Mighty God! Hear--oh! hear the kneeling slave, Break--oh! break th' oppressor's rod. 2 May the captive's pleading fill All the earth, and all the sky; Every other voice be still, While he pleads with God on high. 3 He, whose ear is everywhere, Who doth silent sorrow see, Will regard the captive's prayer, Will from bondage set him free. 4 From the tyranny within, Save thy children, Lord! we pray; Chains of iron, chains of sin, Cast forever, cast away. 5 Love to man, and love to God, Are the weapons of our war; These can break the oppressor's rod-- Burst the bonds that we abhor. 803. L. M. J. G. Whittier. For a Liberty Meeting on the Fourth of July. 1 O Thou! whose presence went before Our fathers in their weary way, As with thy chosen moved of yore The fire by night--the cloud by day! 2 When, from each temple of the free, A nation's song ascends to heaven, Most Holy Father! unto thee, May not our humble prayer be given,-- 3 For those to whom this day can bring, Not, as to us, the joyful thrill;-- For those, who, under freedom's wing, Are bound in slavery's fetters still:-- 4 And grant, O Father! that the time Of Earth's deliverance may be near, When every land, and tongue, and clime, The message of thy love shall hear.