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 8 But yet my lot, which seem’d so hard, Quite otherwise did prove ; For I was carried far from home To learn a Saviour’s love.

Poor and despised though I was. Yet thou, O God, was nigh. And when thy mercy first I saw. Sure none so glad as I.

In ignorance I long had liv’d, A rebel too had been ; But thy great kindness, O my God I Sav’d me from all my sin.

Mine was a wretched state, expos’d To men and angels’ view ; A slave to man, a slave to sin, A slave to Satan too.

But if the Son hath made me free. Then I am free indeed ; From power of man, of sin, and hell. For evermore are held.

O ! send thy word to that far land. Where none but Negroes live ; Teach them the way, the truth, the life, Thy grace, thy blessing give.

O ! that my father, mother dear. Might there thy mercy see; Tell them, what Christ has done for them. What Christ has done for me.

Whose God is like the Christian’s God ? Who can with him compare ? He hath compassion on my soul. And hears a Negro’s prayer.