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I hear them sometimes,
Late at night,
As I sit thinking.
One billion silent voices cry;
Their tears fall upon the sand.

And when I dream, sometimes
I see their faces,
Hidden though they may be.
The pleas within their eyes
For some equality with man.

I could not pretend
To comprehend
That struggle there within.
Must one turn upon God for freedom?
Could equality really be sin?

I cannot believe
It is God’s will
To see these angels so:
To suffer these indignities,
With nowhere to turn or go.

They say it’s not my business
And I know I’m but one man,
But I’d trade everything
God gave me to dry those
Tears which stain the sand.

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