O brother man, fold to thy heart thy brother;
Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there;
To worship rightly is to love each other,
Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.

For he whom Jesus loved has truly spoken:
The holier worship which he deigns to bless
Restores the lost, and binds the spirit broken,
And feeds the widow and the fatherless.

Follow with reverent steps the great example
Of him whose holy work was doing good;
So shall the wide earth seem our Father’s temple,
Each loving life a psalm of gratitude.

So shall the shackles fall; the stormy clangour
Of wild war music o’er the earth shall cease;
Love shall tread out the baleful fire of anger,
And in its ashes plant the tree of peace.

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)

By night when others soundly slept
And hath at once both ease and Rest,
My waking eyes were open kept
And so to lie I found it best.

I sought him whom my Soul did Love,
With tears I sought him earnestly.
He bow’d his ear down from Above.
In vain I did not seek or cry.

My hungry Soul he fill’d with Good;
He in his Bottle put my tears,
My smarting wounds washt in his blood,
And banisht thence my Doubts and fears.

What to my Saviour shall I give
That freely hath done this for me?
I’ll serve him here whilst I shall live
And Love him to Eternity.

Anne Bradstreet (1612-1672)

Lo! for this dark terrestrial Dome
He leaves this azure-paved Home.
A Prince of heav’nly birth:
Divine Humanity! Behold.
What wonders rise! What Charms unfold
At his Descent on Earth.
In Bosoms of the Great & Good
His own blest image, when he view’d,
He fix’d Dominion there:
Him close compressing to his Breast,
The Sire of Gods & Men address’d,
‘My Son, my heav’nly fair!
Descend to Earth, fix there thy Throne
To succour Man’s afflicted Son,
Each human Heart inspire:
To act in Bounties unconfin’d,
Enlarge the close contracted Mind,
And fill it with sacred Fire.’
Quick as the Word with swift Career,
He wings his Course from Star to Star,
And leaves the bright abode:
The Virtue did his Charms impart,
Their Galloway! then thy raptur’d Heart,
Perceiv’d the rushing God!
For when thy pitying Eye did see
The languid Muse in low Degree,
Then, then did thy bounteous Hand
Command the all-inspiring Nine;
From bright Olympus’ Height to shine
And ev’n my Song demand.
Can Afric’s Muse forgetful prove
Or can such Friendship fail to move
An ever grateful Heart?
Immortal Friendship! Laurel-crown’d
The smiling Graces all surround
With ev’ry heav’nly Art.

Phillis Wheatley (1753-1784)

On the wings of the wind he comes, he comes!
With the rolling billow’s speed;
On his breast are signs of peace and love,
And his soul is nerved with strength from above:
While his eyes flash fire,
He burns with desire
To achieve the noble deed.

To the shores of the free he goes, he goes
And smiles as he passes on;
He hears the glad notes of Liberty’s song,
And bids the brave sons of freedom be strong.
While his heart bounds high
To his crown in the sky,
He triumphs o’er conquests won.

To the homes of the slave he flies, he flies!
Where manacled mourners cry;
The bursting groan of the mind’s o’erflow,
Transfixed on the dark and speaking brow:
With a murmuring sound,
Ascends from the ground,
To the God that reigns on high.

To his loved Father’s throne he hastes, he hastes!
And pours forth his soul in grief:
Uprising he finds his strength renewed,
And his heart with fervent love is imbued;
While the heaving sigh,
And the deep-toned cry,
Appeal for instant relief.To the hard oppressor he cries, he cries,
And points to the bleeding slave;
He tells of the rights of the human soul,
And his eyes with indignation roll:
While his heart is moved,
And the truth is proved,
He seeks the captive to save.

To nations of freemen once more he comes,
To raise Liberty’s banner high;
He tells of the wrongs of the bonded slave,
And cries aloud, ’mid throngs of the brave:
‘O freemen, arise!
Be faithful and wise,
And answer the mourner’s cry.’

In melting strains of love he calls, he calls,
To the great and the good from afar;
Till sympathy wakes to the truthful tale,
And the prayer of the faith, which cannot fail,
Ascends to heaven,
And grace is given,
To nerve for the bloodless war.

The oppressor no longer holds the right,
Or property claims in the slave,
But, in the glory of freedom’s light,
Beams out from the darkness of widespread night;
Throughout its length,
In greatness and in strength,
The honour of the free and the brave.

[Divine Humanity! Behold.]

James W C Pennington (c1807-1870)
from 'The Fugitive Blacksmith'