With timbrel, and with harp and psaltery,
Struck the proud notes of triumphs yet to be,
And voiced her Israel’s deliverance.
So in our own dear Land, in strife to save
Another race oppressed, when light grew dim,
And the Red Sea of blood loomed fatefully
To overwhelm, the God of freedom gave
Thro’ Woman’s lips His sacred battle hymn
That rang thro’ combat on to victory!
When memorial services were held in honor of my mother, Boston’s great Symphony Hall was crowded to its utmost capacity. Many were the beautiful tributes to her given by men and women of national reputation. None, however, equaled in heartfelt eloquence the speech of Lewis, the distinguished negro lawyer. As he poured out the gratitude of his race to the woman who had written “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” I suddenly realized for the first time what the words meant to the colored people.