He thought seriously about running for Congress. He was already an established editor at twenty-five and emerging as a respected poet. He wrestled with the decision about whether to join the anti-slavery movement. It would surely jeopardize his literary and political ambitions. To become an abolitionist in 1833 would invariably invite ridicule and hostility. Yet John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) decided the evils of slavery must be challenged and became a founding member of the Anti-Slavery Society. He suffered twenty years of privation for his decision. Publishers were reluctant to print his poems, so he eked out a living on five hundred dollars a year as an editor, living with his mother and sister on a farm in Amesbury, Massachusetts. He was pelted with stones and rotten eggs in nearby Concord. An angry mob broke the windows of the Haverhill church hosting the anti-slavery meeting he attended. Many years later, Americans finally woke up to the genius of this New England poet. Not that he regretted his decision. He wrote at the thirtieth anniversary of the Anti-Slavery Society, “I am thankful to divine Providence that turned me so early away from what Roger Williams called “the world’s great trinity—pleasure, profit and honor”—to take side with the poor and the oppressed. I am not insensitive to literary reputation; I love, perhaps too well, the praise and goodwill of my fellow men, but I set a higher value to my name appended to the Anti-Slavery Declaration of 1833 than on the title page of any book.”
John was called “the Quaker poet.” Quakers call themselves “Friends” not primarily because they were friends of each other, but, like Abraham, they considered themselves friends of God. “I believe in a living God,” he said, committing Jesus’ teachings to memory. His Christian faith permeates his poems. If you’ve ever sung, “Dear Lord and Father of Mankind,” you gain a glimpse into the depth and sincerity of his faith.
John’s poem, Andrew Rykman’s Prayer, concludes with the words: