You Shall Not Pile, With Servile Toil,

The Man Who Stands Upon His Own Soil, Who Feels, By The Laws Of The Land In Which He Lives,-by The Laws Of Civilized Nations,-he Is The Rightful And Exclusive Owner Of The Land Which He Tills, Is, By The Constitution Of Our Nature, Under A Wholesome Influence, Not Easily Imbibed From Any Other Source.

When Every Brake Hath Found Its Note, And Sunshine Smiles In Every Flower.

Freedom May Come Quickly In Robes Of Peace Or After Ages Of Conflict And War, But Come It Will, And Abide It Will, So Long As The Principles By Which It Was Acquired Are Held Sacred.

You Shall Not Pile, With Servile Toil, Your Monuments Upon My Breast, Nor Yet Within The Common Soil, Lay Down The Wreck Of Power To Rest...

I Should Be Glad If I Could Flatter Myself That I Came As Near The Central Idea Of The Occasion, In Two Hours, As You Did In Two Minutes.