On their brows the sun has left traces; Shrink not from their sorrow in scorn. When they entered the threshold of being The children of a King were born. Each comes as a guest to the table The hand of our God has outspread, To fountains that ever leap upward, To share in the soil we all tread. When ye plead for the wrecked and fallen, The exile from far-distant shores, Remember that men are still wasting Life's crimson around your own doors. Have ye not, oh, my favored sisters, Just a plea, a prayer or a tear, For mothers who dwell 'neath the shadows Of agony, hatred and fear? Men may tread down the poor and lowly, May crush them in anger and hate, 74 AN APPEAL TO MY COUNTRYWOMEN. But surely the mills of God's justice Will grind out the grist of their fate. Oh, people sin-laden and guilty, So lusty and proud in your prime, The sharp sickles of God's retribution Will gather your harvest of crime. Weep not, oh my well-sheltered sisters, Weep not for the Negro alone, But weep for your sons who must gather The crops which their fathers have sown. Go read on the tombstones of nations Of chieftains who masterful trod, The sentence which time has engraven, That they had forgotten their God. 'Tis the judgment of God that men reap The tares which in madness they sow, Sorrow follows the footsteps of crime, And Sin is the consort of Woe. THEN AND NOW. 75 THEN AND NOW. "Build me a nation," said the Lord. The distant nations heard the word, Build me a nation true and strong, Bar out the old world's hate and wrong; For men had traced with blood and tears The trail of weary wasting years, And torn and bleeding martyrs trod Through fire and torture up to God. While in the hollow of his hand God hid the secret of our land, Men warred against their fiercest foes, And kingdoms fell and empires rose, Till, weary of the old world strife, Men sought for broader, freer life, And plunged into the ocean's foam To find another, better home. And, like a vision fair and bright The new world broke upon their sight. Men grasped the prize, grew proud and strong, And cursed the land with crime and wrong. The Indian stood despoiled of lands, The Negro bound with servile bands, Oppressed through weary years of toil, His blood and tears bedewed the soil. 76 THEN AND NOW. Then God arose in dreadful wrath, And judgment streamed around his path; His hand the captive's fetters broke, His lightnings shattered every yoke. As Israel through the Red sea trod, Led by the mighty hand of God, They passed to freedom through a flood, Whose every wave and surge was blood.