A prophet-woman broke a jar,
By Love’s divine appointing,
With rare perfume she filled the room,
Presiding and anointing.
A prophet-woman broke a jar,
The sneers of scorn defying,
With rare perfume she filled the room,
Preparing Christ for dying.

A faithful woman left a tomb
By Love’s divine commission.
She saw; she heard; she preached the Word,
Arising from submission.
A faithful woman left a tomb,
With resurrection gospel.
She saw; she heard; she preached the Word,
Apostle to apostles.

Though woman-wisdom, woman-truth,
For centuries were hidden,
Unsung, unwritten, and unheard,
Derided and forbidden,
The Spi­rit’s breath, the Spi­rit’s fire,
On free and slave descending,
Can tumble our dividing-walls,
Our shame and sadness mending.

The Spi­rit knows; the Spi­rit calls,
By Love’s divine ordaining,
The friends we need, to serve and lead,
Their power and gifts unchaining.
The Spi­rit knows, the Spi­rit calls,
From women, men, and children,
The friends we need, to serve and lead.
Rejoice, and make them welcome!