The Pastoral Letter

So, this is all,--the utmost reachOf priestly power the mind to fetter!When laymen think, when women preach,A war of words, a "Pastoral Letter!"Now, shame upon ye, parish Popes!Was it thus with those, your predecessors,Who sealed with racks, and fire, and ropesTheir loving-kindness to transgressors?

A "Pastoral Letter," grave and dull;Alas! in hoof and horns and features,How different is your Brookfield bullFrom him who bellows from St. Peter'sYour pastoral rights and powers from harm,Think ye, can words alone preserve them?Your wiser fathers taught the armAnd sword of temporal power to serve them.

Oh, glorious days, when Church and StateWere wedded by your spiritual fathers!And on submissive shoulders satYour Wilsons and your Cotton Mathers.No vile "itinerant" then could marThe beauty of your tranquil Zion,But at his peril of the scarOf hangman's whip and branding-iron.

Then, wholesome laws relieved the ChurchOf heretic and mischief-maker,And priest and bailiff joined in search,By turns, of Papist, witch, and QuakerThe stocks were at each church's door,The gallows stood on Boston Common,A Papist's ears the pillory bore,--The gallows-rope, a Quaker woman!

Your fathers dealt not as ye dealWith "non-professing" frantic teachers;They bored the tongue with red-hot steel,And flayed the backs of "female preachers."Old Hampton, had her fields a tongue,And Salem's streets could tell their story,Of fainting woman dragged along,Gashed by the whip accursed and gory!

And will ye ask me, why this tauntOf memories sacred from the scorner?And why with reckless hand I plantA nettle on the graves ye honor?Not to reproach New England's deadThis record from the past I summon,Of manhood to the scaffold led,And suffering and heroic woman.

No, for yourselves alone, I turnThe pages of intolerance over,That, in their spirit, dark and stern,Ye haply may your own discover!For, if ye claim the "pastoral right"To silence Freedom's voice of warning,And from your precincts shut the lightOf Freedom's day around ye dawning;

If when an earthquake voice of powerAnd signs in earth and heaven are showingThat forth, in its appointed hour,The Spirit of the Lord is goingAnd, with that Spirit, Freedom's lightOn kindred, tongue, and people breaking,Whose slumbering millions, at the sight,In glory and in strength are waking!

When for the sighing of the poor,And for the needy, God bath risen,And chains are breaking, and a doorIs opening for the souls in prison!If then ye would, with puny hands,Arrest the very work of Heaven,And bind anew the evil bandsWhich God's right arm of power hath riven;

What marvel that, in many a mind,Those darker deeds of bigot madnessAre closely with your own combined,Yet "less in anger than in sadness"?What marvel, if the people learnTo claim the right of free opinion?What marvel, if at times they spurnThe ancient yoke of your dominion?

A glorious remnant linger yet,Whose lips are wet at Freedom's fountains,The coming of whose welcome feetIs beautiful upon our mountains!Men, who the gospel tidings bringOf Liberty and Love forever,Whose joy is an abiding spring,Whose peace is as a gentle river!

But ye, who scorn the thrilling taleOf Carolina's high-souled daughters,Which echoes here the mournful wailOf sorrow from Edisto's waters,Close while ye may the public ear,With malice vex, with slander wound them,The pure and good shall throng to hear,And tried and manly hearts surround them.

Oh, ever may the power which ledTheir way to such a fiery trial,And strengthened womanhood to treadThe wine-press of such self-denial,Be round them in an evil land,With wisdom and with strength from Heaven,With Miriam's voice, and Judith's hand,And Deborah's song, for triumph given!

And what are ye who strive with GodAgainst the ark of His salvation,Moved by the breath of prayer abroad,With blessings for a dying nation?What, but the stubble and the hayTo perish, even as flax consuming,With all that bars His glorious way,Before the brightness of His coming?

And thou, sad Angel, who so longHast waited for the glorious token,That Earth from all her bonds of wrongTo liberty and light has broken,--

Angel of Freedom! soon to theeThe sounding trumpet shall be given,And over Earth's full jubileeShall deeper joy be felt in Heaven!