From Afric’s sunny country

From Ethiopia’s world

[Whose land?] is full of bounty

And sands rolled down [with?] gold.

From many a silent river

From many a sun kissed [?]

They call us to deliver

Their land from error’s chain

For though the spicy breezes

Blow soft o’er Afric’s soil

All other prospect [?]

And man alone is vile.

In hope we raise our voices

To Thee the God above--

O show us some devices

With which to show our love

We shall not rest in silence

We shall not hold our peace

Until the accursed violence

Upon thy people cease.

O give us faith to conquer

O give us strength to fight

Until shall cease our languor

That men shall see the light.

And then shall waft the story

O’er mountain, hill and plain

To God belongs the glory

Christ has not died in vain.

For Afric’s trodden nation

Shall know the God of might

Shall seek His free salvation

And battle for the right.

    Prof. O. M. Skinner

   620 Lenox Avenue, New York