John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892). The Poetical Works in Four Volumes. 1892.
Songs of Labor and ReformDemocracy
B
Breaker of Slavery’s chain and rod,
The foe of all which pains the sight,
Or wounds the generous ear of God!
Though there profaning gifts are thrown;
And fires unkindled of the skies
Are glaring round thy altar-stone.
By those whose hearts thy truth deride;
And garlands, plucked from thee, are wreathed
Around the haughty brows of Pride.
The faith in which my father stood,
Even when the sons of Lust and Crime
Had stained thy peaceful courts with blood!
For through the mists which darken there,
I see the flame of Freedom burn,—
The Kebla of the patriot’s prayer!
Which owns the right of all divine;
The pitying heart, the helping arm,
The prompt self-sacrifice, are thine.
How fade the lines of caste and birth!
How equal in their suffering lie
The groaning multitudes of earth!
Whatever clime hath nurtured him;
As stooped to heal the wounded Jew
The worshipper of Gerizim.
By pomp or power, thou seest a Man
In prince or peasant, slave or lord,
Pale priest, or swarthy artisan.
Beneath the flaunting robes of sin,
Through poverty and squalid shame,
Thou lookest on the man within.
Howe’er debased, and soiled, and dim,
The crown upon his forehead set,
The immortal gift of God to him.
For that frail form which mortals wear
The Spirit of the Holiest took,
And veiled His perfect brightness there.
Of vain philosophy thou art;
He who of old on Syria’s Mount
Thrilled, warmed, by turns, the listener’s heart.
In thoughts which angels leaned to know,
Proclaimed thy message from on high,
Thy mission to a world of woe.
From the blue lake of Galilee,
And Tabor’s lonely mountain-side,
It calls a struggling world to thee.
I hear in every breeze that stirs,
And round a thousand altars stand
Thy banded party worshippers.
At party’s call, my gift I bring;
But on thy olden shrine I lay
A freeman’s dearest offering:
His pledge to Freedom and to Truth,
That manhood’s heart remembers still
The homage of his generous youth.