How holy, blameless, were their lives; And how poor craftsmen vile, Amid their fellows, tool in hand, The gospel preached the while. ’Twas told of Marien; how she came A wanderer none knew whence; Friendless and poor, of mind mature, A Child in innocence; As thus ’twas told, some blessed God, But others took offence. “Why,” said they, “should this simple child, These men of low degree, Thus preach and practise? what new faith Is there, or need there be? “Bishops have taught a thousand years, And learned men are they; These are mad doctrines, false, unfit, Devised to lead astray.” Therefore the simple people were To a full synod brought, To answer for their altered lives, And for the faith they taught. Much marvelled all those learned men To see them fearless stand, Calm, unabashed; with ready wit, And language at command. And to their taunt of low estate, They answered, “let alone All pride of rank; Christ chose the poor, To make his gospel known. “And what are we?--Immortal souls, For whom Christ’s blood was shed; Children of one great sire, with ye, Co-heirs of Immortality; Alike you both in birth and death; Alone our lot so differeth, As God shall judge the dead!” Then were they questioned of old creeds, By sophistries perplexed; So that their artless lore might fail, There simple souls be vexed. But they were steadfast in the faith As taught the holy book; And thence it was adjudged a crime Upon its page to look. And the grave synod rose in wrath, And they were judged blasphemers dire, And doomed, their daring heresies To expiate in fire. PART VI. So perished for their faith in Christ, This righteous couple; for their foes Beseeching pardon; blessing God That they were reckoned among those Worthy to die for Christ, whose place Is with the Holiest face to face. Beside the pile stood Marien Weeping sad human tears, Yet strengthening, comforting the while, And soothing all their fears. And as she spoke, her countenance With heavenly lustre beamed, And all around her youthful form Celestial beauty streamed. Men looked on her with wondering awe, As on an angel’s face, And pity, and love, and sweet remorse, In every heart had place. Throughout the city rang the tale Of this divinest child; And for her sake unto her faith Many were reconciled. Unto the synod came these things; And “here let her be brought, To answer for herself,” they said, “And suffer as she ought.”