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the fugitive-slave-bill.
But has a hope for its brief hours,
A joy perhaps more fine than ours—
A something it may keep from God.
A joy perhaps more fine than ours—
A something it may keep from God.
In silent ways, He evens all.
All silently, the mean he brings
Up to his own transcendent height:
All silently with inward blight,
He shrinks oppression's evil springs.
All silently, the mean he brings
Up to his own transcendent height:
All silently with inward blight,
He shrinks oppression's evil springs.
But go not thou, with truth like this,
To the poor thralls of grief and fear,
Till thou hast labored well and long,
To heal their wounds, to right their wrong,
And won the noble right to cheer.
To the poor thralls of grief and fear,
Till thou hast labored well and long,
To heal their wounds, to right their wrong,
And won the noble right to cheer.
And who may close his eyes and hands?
You, if the air's free motions breed
No joy in you, if you may vaunt
To live without a hope, nor want
Man's comfort in your bitter need.
You, if the air's free motions breed
No joy in you, if you may vaunt
To live without a hope, nor want
Man's comfort in your bitter need.
