Miss V. C. Thomas; Poems for Your Scrap Book, Chicago Defender, May 9, 1921

Twelve million strong we stand in grim array,
Twelve million strong denied the light of day;
Twelve million hearts in Thee, God, do they trust,
Twelve million dry: Has Thou forsaken us?

Like herded beasts they brought us to these shores,
Like beasts were we disposed of to our foes,
Like beasts they scourged our bodies to the dust,
O God, hast Thou, hast Thou forsaken us?

We’ve plowed these fields and made these forests clear,
We’ve drained these swamps and made waste places bear,
Our fate through all these years has seemed unjust,
With tears, we ask, hast Thou forsaken us?

In battle, too, we’ve labored side by side;
When needed, for this country we have died,
For America alone, and not for lust,
We’ve fought; and now, proud land, has thou forsaken us?

We’ve given of our best to this fair land:
In men, in blood, in labor of the hand.
Our bank accounts, though scant and very few,
Yet even in this have we forsaken you?

Must we forever be denied man’s right,
Because our skins, by nature, are not light?
If color for true manhood is the test,
Why were we called to battle with the rest?

We do not ask removal from our sphere,
Our race, our kin are to our hearts most dear;
Within this land, together and as friend,
We only seek the chance, the rights of men.

We long no more to hear the din of mobs:
We long no more to hear the victim’s sobs;
When justice, love, our laws begin to sway,
Then for us will have dawned that brighter day.

In right triumphant, we would not lose faith.
We would believe in all our Savior saith,
Yet through these years of pain and hate unjust,
Twelve million cry, hast Thou forsaken us?