Lo! a picture came before me Of a million broken chains, Lying cankered with old blood-drops Which had oozed from tortured veins, Reddening the fleecy cotton Snowed upon the Southern plains. And the picture's tints grew deeper, Redder, blacker, as I gazed, And my weak knees smote together, And my eyes grew dim and glazed, At the vision's spectred horrors From the graves of vengeance raised. For, where liveoaks and magnolias Gloom the earth with densest shades, Where the snake and alligator Lurk in endless everglades, Where the cloud-lace-fretted sunset Lingering, longest night evades, Where the eagle builds his eyrie Nearest to the fervid skies, Where the buzzard swoops to fatten On the prey that lingering dies, Where the bloodhound's hellish baying Stills the hunted bondman's cries, There uprose, all ghostly shadowed, Hosts of wasted, haggard forms; And their wild eyes glared and glittered Like heaven's fire in dark-browed storms, And with outstretched arms toward me They came rushing in thick swarms. And I saw upon their foreheads Letters where the irons burned, And their backs left gashed and harrowed Where the lash for life-blood yearned, And their lank limbs, fester-eaten, Showed where gnawing shackles turned. There were gaunt and frenzied mothers With wan children in their arms, There were youths, and there were maidens, Curses, tears, and wild alarms, There were auction blocks and hammers Where were bartered beauty's charms. Ah! my heart grew chill within me, And my 'frighted blood congealed, As my soul's eye raised the shadows Which like curtains half concealed Deeper horrors, depths of anguish Left till God's day unrevealed! And my soul went up in sighing To God's ear: 'And _Thou_ dost know, High and Holy! men are devils, Earth, like hell, is drowned in woe?' Came an answer: 'Hark! my war-blast Dealing sin a staggering blow!' 'Father! though the chains be broken,' Cried my soul, 'the wounds remain, Deeper than the irons wore them, 'Neath the brow within the brain, 'Neath the body in the spirit! Peals Thy war-blast not in vain? 'How shall knowledge, how shall virtue Dwell with ignorance and sin? Where is found that earthly saintship Can consort with devils' din? Who the saintly self-denying Through bell's door would look within 'E'en to save the devil's victims, Snatch them from the cooling flames, Kiss with love their long-charred spirits, Breathe new souls into their names, Wing them to the climes supernal, And to angels' loud acclaims?' Then came answer: 'Lo! I call them, Ministers of love, I call!' Then I waited in the silence, With God waited over all, Till I knew how He forgetteth No one worthy, great or small.