Yes! Ethiopia yet shall stretch

    Her bleeding hands abroad;

Her cry of agony shall reach

    The burning throne of God.

The tyrant's yoke from off her neck,

    His fetters from her soul,

The mighty hand of God shall break,

    And spurn the base control.

Redeemed from dust and freed from chains,

   Her sons shall lift their eyes;

From cloud-capt hills and verdant plains

    Shall shouts of triumph rise.

Upon her dark, despairing brow,

    Shall play a smile of peace;

For God shall bend unto her wo,

    And bid her sorrows cease.

'Neath sheltering vines and stately palms

    Shall laughing children play,

And aged sires with joyous psalms

    Shall gladden every day.

Secure by night, and blest by day,

    Shall pass her happy hours;

Nor human tigers hunt for prey

    Within her peaceful bowers.

Then, Ethiopia! stretch, oh! stretch

    Thy bleeding hands abroad;

Thy cry of agony shall reach

    And find redress from God.