John G. C. Brainard (1796–1828)

ALL sights are fair to the recover’d blind—

All sounds are music to the deaf restored—

The lame, made whole, leaps like the sporting hind;

And the sad bow’d down sinner, with his load

Of shame and sorrow, when he cuts the cord,

And drops the pack it bound, is free again

In the light yoke and burden of his Lord.

Thus, with the birthright of his fellow man,

Sees, hears and feels at once the righted African.

’T is somewhat like the burst from death to life;

From the grave’s cerements to the robes of Heaven;

From sin’s dominion, and from passion’s strife,

To the pure freedom of a soul forgiven!

When all the bonds of death and hell are riven,

And mortals put on immortality;

When fear, and care, and grief away are driven,

And Mercy’s hand has turn’d the golden key,

And Mercy’s voice has said, “Rejoice—thy soul is free!”