Before the overwhelming fact that they could no longer be bought and sold--that they could no longer be separated from their loved ones, these simple black folk fell in transports of gratitude before God, their mighty deliverer, their everlasting Father.
Grimké describes the deep gratitude of freedmen towards God for their liberation from slavery.
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At any rate they should hear what was resting upon his soul with the weight of a great woe, the force of a supreme command.
Our garb should be sack-cloth--our heads bowed in the dust--our supplications for the pardon and assistance of Heaven.
O Freedom! how are ye still born In the rude stable, in the manger nursed; What humble hands unbar those gates of morn Through which the splendors of the New Day burst.
On every hand over against his paper rights as a citizen, the Negro faces facts which make his citizenship seem like a snare and a delusion.