Oh, that they had pity, the men we serve so truly!
Oh, that they had kindness, the men we love so well!
They call us dull and stupid, and vicious, and unruly,
And think not we can suffer, but only would rebel.

They brand us, and they beat us; they spill our blood like water;
We die that they may live, a million in a day!
Oh, that they had mercy! for in their dens of slaughter
They afflict us and affright us, and do far worse than slay.

We are made to be their servants—we know it and complain not;
We bow our necks in meekness the galling yoke to bear;
Their heaviest toil we lighten, the meanest we disdain not;
In all their sweat and labour we take a willing share.

We know that GOD intended for us but servile stations,
To toil, to bear man's burdens, to watch beside his door;
They are of earth the masters, we are their poor relations,
Who grudge them not their greatness, but help to make it more.

We have a sense they know not, or else dulled by learning—
They call it instinct only, a thing of rule and plan;
But oft when reason fails them, our clear, direct discerning,
And the love that is written within us, have saved the life of man.

And in return we ask but that they would kindly use us
For the purposes of service, for that for which we're made;
That they should teach their children to love and not abuse us,
So each might face the other, and neither be afraid.

If they would but love us, would learn our strength and weakness,
If only with our sufferings their hearts would sympathise,
Then they would know what truth is, what patience is and meekness
And read our hearts devotion in the softness of our eyes!

If they would but teach their children to treat the subject creatures.
As humble friends, as servants who strive their love to win,
Then would they see how joyous, how kindly are our natures,
And a second day of Eden would on the earth begin.