Shall We Stop This Bleeding?

The Very Spot Where Grew The Bread That Formed My Bones, I See. How Strange, Old Field, On Thee To Tread, And Feel I'm Part Of Thee.

As Labor Is The Common Burden Of Our Race, So The Effort Of Some To Shift Their Share Of The Burden Onto The Shoulders Of Others Is The Great Durable Curse Of The Race.

The Dogmas Of The Quiet Past Are Inadequate To The Stormy Present. The Occasion Is Piled High With Difficulty, And We Must Rise To The Occasion. We Cannot Escape History. We Will Be Remembered In Spite Of Ourselves. The Fiery Trial Through Which We Pass Will Light Us Down In Honour Or Dishonour, To The Last Generation. We Shall Nobly Save, Or Meanly Lose, Our Last Best Hope Of Earth.

Slavery Is Wrong. If Slavery Is Right, All Words, Acts, Laws, And Constitutions Against It, Are Themselves Wrong, And Should Be Silenced, And Swept Away.

I Don't Know Who My Grandfather Was; I Am Much More Concerned To Know What His Grandson Will Be.