The Silver Trump Of Freedom Roused In

At A Time Like This, Scorching Irony, Not Convincing Argument, Is Needed.

Grandmother Pointed Out My Brother Perry, My Sister Sarah, And My Sister Eliza, Who Stood In The Group. I Had Never Seen My Brother Nor My Sisters Before; And, Though I Had Sometimes Heard Of Them, And Felt A Curious Interest In Them, I Really Did Not Understand What They Were To Me, Or I To Them. We Were Brothers And Sisters, But What Of That? Why Should They Be Attached To Me, Or I To Them? Brothers And Sisters Were By Blood; But Slavery Had Made Us Strangers. I Heard The Words Brother And Sisters, And Knew They Must Mean Something; But Slavery Had Robbed These Terms Of Their True Meaning.

In A Composite Nation Like Ours, As Before The Law, There Should Be No Rich, No Poor, No High, No Low, No White, No Black, But Common Country, Common Citizenship, Equal Rights And A Common Destiny.

I Didn't Know I Was A Slave Until I Found Out I Couldn't Do The Things I Wanted.

A Battle Lost Or Won Is Easily Described, Understood, And Appreciated, But The Moral Growth Of A Great Nation Requires Reflection, As Well As Observation, To Appreciate It.