Bowed By The Weight Of Centuries He

Earth Is Enough. We Men Of Earth Have Here The Stuff Of Paradise - We Have Enough! We Need No Other Stones To Build The Temple Of The Unfulfilled - No Other Ivory For The Doors - No Other Marble For The Floors - No Other Cedar For The Beam And Dome Of Man's Immortal Dream. Here On The Paths Of Every-day - Here On The Common Human Way Is All The Stuff The Gods Would Take To Build A Heaven, To Mold And Make New Edens. Ours Is The Stuff Sublime To Build Eternity In Time!

Bowed By The Weight Of Centuries He Leans Upon His Hoe And Gazes On The Ground, The Emptiness Of Ages In His Face, And On His Back The Burden Of The World.

Three Were The Fates. Poverty That Chains; Gray Drudgery That Grinds The Hope Away, And Gaping Ignorance That Starves The Soul.

That In The Human Plan Nothing Is Worth The Making If It Does Not Make The Man.

Lincoln, The Man Of The People