Since rock of ages,
Our roots you slay;
Treating us like slaves.
Is it for our race,
We hath been lace?

Our color thy trace,
Grouping us in a place;
A place of discomfort.
Seeking for peace,
Hiding our beautiful faces;
For we have not a space.

Going everyday wave,
Ought we there have;
The vigour to save.
O ye people of black race!
Weep not of the past,
For one day we will be grace;
And this adversity will be dave.