Elizabeth Margaret Chandler

“ Our hopes, our thoughts, our hearts, to thee;
Yet not to lift the hymn of praise,
But humbly bow the suppliant knee.
For we have sinn'd before thy face,
Have seen unmoved our brothers’ woe,
Though on his cheeks hot tear-drops trace
Deep furrows in their burning flow.
We knew that on his limbs were bound
The fetters man should never wear ”