Ding dong, ding dong, so rich, so full, so deep,1
The air is peopled with the floating hymn ;2
This churchly music cradled me to sleep,3
And in my waking ears its echoes swim.4
For what ? for whom ?— it is the virgin bloom5
Of May, and all the city rings her praise,6
The Hebrew maid, from whose benignant womb7
He sprang who draws the world’s adoring gaze.8
O blame them not, thou Presbyterian sour,9
Severe to write harsh sentence ’gainst thy brothers,10
Whose worship placed her on a throne of power,11
Miraculous, high above all human mothers :12
They sinned—if here they sinned—who overflowed13
With love, and paid with more than what they owed.14