But as they who see not, the Quakers saw
The world about them; they only thought
With deep thanksgiving and pious awe
On the great deliverance God had wrought.
Through lane and alley the gazing town
Noisily followed them up and down;
Some with scoffing and brutal jeer,
Some with pity and words of cheer.
One brave voice rose above the din.
Upsall, gray with his length of days,
Cried from the door of his Red Lion Inn
“Men of Boston, give God the praise
No more shall innocent blood call down
The bolts of wrath on your guilty town.
The freedom of worship, dear to you,
Is dear to all, and to all is due.
“I see the vision of days to come,
When your beautiful City of the Bay
Shall be Christian liberty’s chosen home,
And none shall his neighbor’s rights gainsay.
The varying notes of worship shall blend
And as one great prayer to God ascend,
And hands of mutual charity raise
Walls of salvation and gates of praise.”
So passed the Quakers through Boston town,
Whose painful ministers sighed to see
The walls of their sheep-fold falling down,
And wolves of heresy prowling free.
But the years went on, and brought no wrong;
With milder counsels the State grew strong,
As outward Letter and inward Light
Kept the balance of truth aright.
The Puritan spirit perishing not,
To Concord’s yeomen the signal sent,
And spake in the voice of the cannon-shot
That severed the chains of a continent.
With its gentler mission of peace and good-will
The thought of the Quaker is living still,
And the freedom of soul he prophesied
Is gospel and law where the martyrs died.
1880.
The old Squire said, as he stood by his gate,
And his neighbor, the Deacon, went by,
“In spite of my bank stock and real estate,
You are better off, Deacon, than I.
“We’re both growing old, and the end’s
drawing near,
You have less of this world to resign,
But in Heaven’s appraisal your assets, I fear,
Will reckon up greater than mine.
“They say I am rich, but I’m feeling so
poor,
I wish I could swap with you even
The pounds I have lived for and laid up in store
For the shillings and pence you have given.”
“Well, Squire,” said the Deacon, with
shrewd common sense, While his eye had a twinkle
of fun, “Let your pounds take the way of my
shillings and pence, And the thing can be easily
done!” 1880.
“Rabbi Ishmael Ben Elisha said, Once, I entered
into the Holy of Holies [as High Priest] to burn incense,
when I saw Aktriel [the Divine Crown] Jah, Lord of
Hosts, sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, who
said unto me, ‘Ishmael, my son, bless me.’
I answered, ’May it please Thee to make Thy
compassion prevail over Thine anger; may it be revealed
above Thy other attributes; mayest Thou deal with
Thy children according to it, and not according to
the strict measure of judgment.’ It seemed
to me that He bowed His head, as though to answer
Amen to my blessing.”— Talmud (Beraehoth,
I. f. 6. b.)
