Man's Cruelty To His Brother

I.
Man's inhumanity to Man!
  Oh hideous tale to tell,—
What cheek unblanch'd can calmly scan
  Those characters of hell?
What pen, what poet, dares to paint
  The terrors of that strife,
Wherein so many a martyr'd saint
  Has moan'd away his life?

II.
O Roman friars,— Spanish priests,
  Ye wretched cruel men,
More bloody than infuriate beasts
  Half-famish'd in their den,—
How dreadful are the human woes
  Your secret vaults have seen,—
God's patient vengeance only knows
  What horrors there have been!

III.
And, Slavery! human nature's shame,
  The curse of human-kind,
How hateful is thy very name,
  To ear, and heart, and mind!
The sugar-mill, the cotton-field,
  The lash, the goad, the chain,—
Alas! how huge a crop they yield
  Of wickedness and pain!

IV.
And, here at home, let childhood's shriek,
  On coalpit echoes borne,—
And starving woman's hollow cheek
  In city streets forlorn,—
And mean oppression's heavy hand
  On patient merit's head,—
Ask everywhere throughout the land,
  —Whither has Mercy fled?

Yet is there comfort: God above
  Long-suffering doth not sleep;
He treasures up with tenderest love
  The tears of those who weep;
Holy, and Merciful, and Strong,
  Be sure, His glorious Might
For all oppression, pain, and wrong
  Will righteously requite!

VI.
And there is comfort: victim soul,
  Go straight before that Judge;
With pitying care to hear the whole
  His patience will not grudge;
So, out of harm, and hate, and pain,
  If thou but kiss the rod,
Thou shalt attain the golden gain
  Of Brotherhood with God!