Around us the history of
the land has centred for thrice a hundred years; out of the
nation's heart we have called all that was best to throttle and
subdue all that was worst; fire and blood, prayer and sacri-
fice, have billowed over this people, and they have found
peace only in the altars of the God of Right. Nor has our gift
of the Spirit been merely passive. Actively we have woven
ourselves with the very warp and woof of this nation,--we
fought their battles, shared their sorrow, mingled our blood
with theirs, and generation after generation have pleaded with
a headstrong, careless people to despise not Justice, Mercy,
and Truth, lest the nation be smitten with a curse. Our song,
our toil, our cheer, and warning have been given to this
nation in blood-brotherhood. Are not these gifts worth the
giving? Is not this work and striving? Would America have
been America without her Negro people?
Even so is the hope that sang in the songs of my fathers
well sung. If somewhere in this whirl and chaos of things
there dwells Eternal Good, pitiful yet masterful, then anon in
His good time America shall rend the Veil and the prisoned
shall go free.
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