The Slave Singing At Midnight.

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

　　

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Loud he sang the psalm of David!He, a Negro and enslaved,Sang of Israel's victory,Sang of Zion, bright and free.In that hour, when night is calmest,Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist,In a voice so sweet and clearThat I could not choose but hear,[Pg 22]Songs of triumph, and ascriptions,Such as reached the swart Egyptians,When upon the Red Sea coastPerished Pharaoh and his host.And the voice of his devotionFilled my soul with strange emotion;For its tones by turns were glad,Sweetly solemn, wildly sad.Paul and Silas, in their prison,Sang of Christ, the Lord arisen,And an earthquake's arm of mightBroke their dungeon-gates at night.But, alas! what holy angelBrings the Slave this glad evangel?And what earthquake's arm of mightBreaks his dungeon-gates at night?

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