Africa

A thousand years of darkness in her face, She turns at last from out the centurys' blight Of labored moan and dull oppression's might, To slowly mount the rugged path and trace Her measured step unto her ancient place. And upward, ever upward towards the light She strains, seeing afar the day when right Shall rule the world and justice leaven the race. Now bare her swarthy arm and firm her sword, She stands where Universal Freedom bleeds, And slays in holy wrath to save the word Of nations and their puny, boasting creeds. Sear with the truth, O God, each doubting heart, Of mankind's need and Afric's gloried part.