In the "Old South"

She came and stood in the Old South Church A wonder and a sign, With a look the old-time sibyls wore, Half-crazed and half-divine. Save the mournful sackcloth about her wound, Unclothed as the primal mother, With limbs that trembled and eyes that blazed With a fire she dare not smother. Loose on her shoulders fell her hair, With sprinkled ashes gray; She stood in the broad aisle strange and weird As a soul at the judgment day. And the minister paused in his sermon’s midst, And the people held their breath, For these were the words the maiden spoke Through lips as the lips of death: “Thus saith the Lord, with equal feet All men my courts shall tread, And priest and ruler no more shall eat My people up like bread! “Repent! repent! ere the Lord shall speak In thunder and breaking seals! Let all souls worship Him in the way His light within reveals.” She shook the dust from her naked feet, And her sackcloth closer drew, And into the porch of the awe-hushed church She passed like a ghost from view. They whipped her away at the tail o’ the cart Through half the streets of the town, But the words she uttered that day nor fire Could burn nor water drown. And now the aisles of the ancient church By equal feet are trod, And the bell that swings in its belfry rings Freedom to worship God! And now whenever a wrong is done It thrills the conscious walls; The stone from the basement cries aloud And the beam from the timber calls. There are steeple-houses on every hand, And pulpits that bless and ban, And the Lord will not grudge the single church That is set apart for man. For in two commandments are all the law And the prophets under the sun, And the first is last and the last is first, And the twain are verily one. So long as Boston shall Boston be, And her bay-tides rise and fall, Shall freedom stand in the Old South Church And plead for the rights of all!