text_original: To distant and slave sunk races, Bowed down in their chains that morn, How it swept on the winds of heaven, Like a cry for God's justice born! LEWIS WORTHINGTON SMITH.
text_transcription: TO DISTANT AND SLAVE SUNK RACES BOWED DOWN IN THEIR CHAINS THAT MORN HOW IT SWEPT ON THE WINDS OF HEAVEN LIKE A CRY FOR GOD'S JUSTICE BORN LOUIS WORTHINGTON SMITH
phonemes: tə dˈɪstənt ænd slˈeɪv sˈʌŋk ɹˈeɪsᵻz, bˈaʊd dˌaʊn ɪn ðɛɹ tʃˈeɪnz ðæt mˈɔːɹn, hˌaʊ ɪt swˈɛpt ɔnðə wˈɪndz ʌv hˈɛvən, lˈaɪk ɐ kɹˈaɪ fɔːɹ ɡˈɑːdz dʒˈʌstɪs bˈɔːɹn! lˈuːɪs wˈɜːðɪŋtən smˈɪθ.