U.S. Rep. John Lewis (D-Ga.) was guest preacher Sunday at the National Cathedral in Washington, where the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. preached his final Sunday sermon on March 31, 1968. Here are excerpts from Lewis' sermon:

Throughout this coming week, you will encounter many opportunities to think about the last words and the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr., the greatest moral leader of the 20th century. But perhaps none is so profound as the opportunity we have today to meditate on the meaning of his final national message.

We began with a Scripture —- Revelations, Chapter 21, and let's take a look at verses 2 and 3. I am reading from the King James version.

"And I, John, saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men."

When I recall the sermon that Martin Luther King Jr. gave from this great pulpit 40 years ago, when I think about what Gandhi was saying over 100 years ago, and what those who are pressing for peace, for environmental justice, for universal health care and human dignity are saying today, I believe they are saying what John said —- they are telling us that the tabernacle of God is with us. They are saying it is our responsibility, it is our duty, it is our job to create the tabernacle here on earth.

But how do we accomplish this holy mission to manifest the spirit of God here on earth? St. John the Divine gives us a clue. He says, "Behold, I saw the holy city coming down from God out of heaven." John says start with a vision.

Early in the 1960s, through the brilliant ministry of Martin Luther King Jr. and the leading of the Holy Spirit, an entire generation had a vision, an entire generation had a dream. We knew in our hearts and our minds that there was a more perfect way, a more excellent way. And we believed a nation founded on principles, a nation founded on a philosophy of freedom, equality and justice, had the potential to make this dream come true.

But we also knew what our eyes could not deny. We saw those signs that said, "white men, colored men, white women, colored women, white waiting, colored waiting." We tasted the bitter fruits of segregation and racial discrimination, and we didn't like it. We asked, "Why segregation? Why racial discrimination?" And our friends and family would say: "That's the way it is. Don't get in trouble. Don't get in the way."

But when we heard the words of Martin Luther King Jr., when we studied the teachings of Gandhi and Thoreau, when we tried to walk in the way of Jesus Christ, and when we followed the way of the Holy Spirit, we were inspired to get in trouble. We were inspired to get in the way. And it was good trouble, necessary trouble.

We truly believed that through the discipline and philosophy of nonviolence, through the power of peace and the power of love, we could transform this nation into something Martin Luther King Jr. called the Beloved Community.

Consider those two words: Beloved Community. "Beloved" means not hateful, not violent, not uncaring, not unkind. And "Community" means not separated, not polarized, not locked in struggle. The Beloved Community is an all-inclusive world society based on simple justice that values the dignity and the worth of every human being. That is the kingdom of God.

Those of us who believed the nonviolent method to be effective took to heart what the Apostle Paul said in Ephesians. We believed that ours is not a struggle against flesh and blood, but a struggle between the forces of division and the forces of reconciliation.

During the past few days, the issues of race and the need for reconciliation have emerged through the presidential campaign. It's not a secret: America has a dark past of division and separation, but if we are to emerge from our struggle unscarred by hate, we must learn to understand and forgive those who have been most hostile and violent toward us.

Martin Luther King Jr. said it another way when he said: "There is no way to peace. Peace is the way."

As I traveled and worked throughout the South during the '60s, I saw civil rights workers and indigenous people whom we were trying to help with their heads cracked open by nightsticks, lying in the street weeping from tear gas, calling helplessly for medical aid. I have seen old women and young children in peaceful protest run down by policemen on horses, beaten back by fire hoses and chased by police dogs.

Yet those people were still able to forgive, understand and sing, "Ain't going to let nobody turn me around." Dr. King inspired us to sing, "Keep Your Eyes on the Prize" and "We Shall Overcome."

Over the years so many people have asked me, how can we forgive? How can we possibly forgive the injustice that is visited upon us?

But as Christians, we can forgive because, oh yes, the Master forgave us and forgave us over and over again. We can forgive because we have a dream. We believe that the kingdom of God is in us, and that through our work, through our witness, through our testimony, our suffering and our victory, we can move our whole society forward to realize that dream.

The sermon Martin Luther King Jr. gave from this pulpit on March 31, 1968, is still so timely, still so fresh.

If I had simply read the same sermon he preached 40 years ago, it would still be a progressive, relevant message. If Martin Luther King Jr. were here today, he would still be asking whether we are sleeping through a great revolution. He spoke then of three great revolutions occurring in 1968 —- one in technology, one in weaponry and one in human rights.

There is no question that technology and weapons are more advanced today than they were 40 years ago. But what about the cause of human rights? Have we continued the advances that Dr. King and the civil rights movement sacrificed to achieve?

In his sermon, he mentioned racism, poverty and war as some of the key barriers to building the Beloved Community. The reality is these are the same problems we confront today. Right here in this pulpit, he said, "We must face the sad fact that at eleven o'clock on Sunday morning when we stand to sing, 'In Christ there is no East or West,' we stand in the most segregated hour in America."

And it was in that speech he made here 40 years ago that he talked about a rich man who passed a beggar named Lazarus every day, but never really paid him any mind. Dr. King said: "There is nothing new about poverty. What is new is that we now have the techniques and the resources to get rid of poverty. The real question is whether we have the will."

If Martin Luther King Jr. were here today, he would still be saying, we are all in this together. Maybe, just maybe, our foremothers and forefathers all came here on different ships, but we're all in the same boat now. It doesn't matter whether we are Democrats or Republicans. It doesn't matter whether we're black or white, whether we are Christian or Muslim, whether we are rich or poor. We have to find a way to live together. We have to find a way to understand each other. We have to find a way to make peace with each other.

I want to close this message with a story from my childhood, a parable for our nation's struggle to overcome the issues that divide us.

One day when I was a little boy growing up in rural Alabama, I visited the home of an aunt of mine by the name of Seneva. Aunt Seneva lived in what we called a shotgun house.

For those of you who don't know what a shotgun house is, let me tell you. In a nonviolent sense, a shotgun house is an old house with a tin roof —- one way in, one way out. You can shoot a shotgun through the front door and the bullet would go straight out the back door. My Aunt Seneva lived in a shotgun house.

One day, we were out in the yard playing —- my sisters and brothers and a few of my first cousins. There were about 12 or 15 of us. Suddenly, an unbelievable storm came up. The wind started blowing, the thunder started rolling and lightning started flashing, and the rain started beating down on the old tin roof of this shotgun house. And we all ran inside. My aunt became terrified. She started crying. My Aunt Seneva told us to hold hands. And being good little girls and boys, we did as we were told. She thought that house was going to blow away, and we all started crying.

Well, the wind continued to blow, the thunder continued to roll, the lightning continued to flash, and the rain continued to beat down on the roof of this little house. And when one corner of the old house appeared to be lifting from its foundation, my Aunt Seneva would have us walk to that corner of the room to hold the house down. When another corner appeared to lift, we would run to that corner, holding hands, trying to hold this house down with our little bodies.

We were little children walking with the wind. And we never, ever left the house.

My friends, the storms may come. The winds may blow. The thunder may roll. The lightning may flash. And the rain may beat down on this old house. Call it the House of the Washington Cathedral. Call it the house of Washington, D.C. Call it the House of Justice. Call it the House of Peace. We must never, ever leave that house. We all live in the same house. We are one family. We are one people. The American house. The world house.

You still have the power to lead a revolution of values, a revolution of ideas, not just in America, but all around the globe. If you use all your power to love and not to hate, to build and not to tear down, to heal and not to kill. So I say to you today walk with the wind and let the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr., let the spirit of love, the spirit of peace, and the Holy Spirit of God Almighty be your guide. Peace be with you.

 PAUL LACHINE / NewsArt