2.  And there was tumult in the air,
     The fife’s shrill note, the drum’s loud beat,
   And through the wide land everywhere
     The answering tread of hurrying feet,
   While the first oath of Freedom’s gun
   Came on the blast from Lexington. 
   And Concord, roused, no longer tame,
   Forgot her old baptismal name,
   Made bare her patriot arm of power,
   And swelled the discord of the hour.

3.  The yeoman and the yoeman’s son,
     With knitted brows and sturdy dint,
   Renewed the polish of each gun,
     Recoiled the lock, reset the flint;
   And oft the maid and matron there,
   While kneeling in the firelight glare,
   Long poured, with half-suspended breath,
   The lead into the molds of death.

4.  The hands by Heaven made silken soft
     To soothe the brow of love or pain,
   Alas! are dulled and soiled too oft
     By some unhallowed earthly stain;
   But under the celestial bound
   No nobler picture can be found
   Than woman, brave in word and deed,
   Thus serving in her nation’s need: 
   Her love is with her country now,
   Her hand is on its aching brow.

5.  Within its shade of elm and oak
     The church of Berkley Manor stood: 
   There Sunday found the rural folk,
     And some esteemed of gentle blood,
   In vain their feet with loitering tread
     Passed ’mid the graves where rank is naught: 
     All could not read the lesson taught
   In that republic of the dead.

6.  The pastor rose:  the prayer was strong;
   The psalm was warrior David’s song;
   The text, a few short words of might,—­
   “The Lord of hosts shall arm the right!”

7.  He spoke of wrongs too long endured,
   Of sacred rights to be secured;
   Then from his patriot tongue of flame
   The startling words for Freedom came. 
   The stirring sentences he spake
   Compelled the heart to glow or quake,
   And, rising on his theme’s broad wing,
     And grasping in his nervous hand
     The imaginary battle brand,
   In face of death he dared to fling
   Defiance to a tyrant king.

8.  Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed
   In eloquence of attitude,
   Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher;
   Then swept his kindling glance of fire
   From startled pew to breathless choir;
   When suddenly his mantle wide
   His hands impatient flung aside,
   And, lo! he met their wondering eyes
   Complete in all a warrior’s guise.

9.  A moment there was awful pause,—­
     When Berkley cried, “Cease, traitor! cease! 
     God’s temple is the house of peace!”
   The other shouted, “Nay, not so,
   When God is with our righteous cause: 
     His holiest places then are ours,
     His temples are our forts and towers
   That frown upon the tyrant foe: 
   In this the dawn of Freedom’s day
   There is a time to fight and pray!”