O ye men! Whom he discovered Prone in the valley of tribulation! Looking with infinite longing, and sad yearning eyes, At the solemn vault of heaven, Where stars Take their nightly course Around a mysterious centre! Wondering, If within the folding of those azure doors, There was room for you! Ye men! For whom this great apostle of liberty Stretched forth the rod of justice, And smote, With a fearless blow, the stony rock of national caste, Till all the waters of liberty Flowed forth! And he gave you to drink! Ye may well Stand with uncovered heads, Above his new made grave, Bowed down with a weight of woe-- A sense of loss too great for human expression! For the good man, Whom God called in the morning of his life, To be a modern Moses To an oppressed and down-trodden nation, Upon whose lives The iron-foot of bondage made its impress! For the hand That bore aloft the proud banner of freedom, And scaled the walls of deep-rooted prejudice, To demand From the custodians of human liberty, The scroll of your birth-right! _Lies cold and still In death!_ The strong right arm That smote the pillar of Your wrongs in the dust! Calling back Fleeting generations, before whose revelations The white faces of the earth Stood still! Trembling before outraged heaven. Upon whose faithful pages every oppression, Every lash of the whip, Every tear From long suffering eyes were registered For future reference! "_Beware!_" Said Sumner in his great appeal to humanity, "_Of the groans of wounded souls; Oppress not to the uttermost A single heart! For one solitary sigh has power to overset A whole world!_"