I see now that it was necessary that the bravest and humanest man
in all the country should be hung. Perhaps he saw it himself. I
almost fear that I may yet hear of his deliverance, doubting if a
prolonged life, if any life, can do as much good as his death.

"Misguided"! "Garrulous"! "Insane"! "Vindictive"! So ye write
in your easy-chairs, and thus he wounded responds from the floor of
the Armory, clear as a cloudless sky, true as the voice of nature
is: "No man sent me here; it was my own prompting and that of my
Maker. I acknowledge no master in human form."

And in what a sweet and noble strain he proceeds, addressing his
captors, who stand over him: "I think, my friends, you are guilty
of a great wrong against God and humanity, and it would be perfectly
right for any one to interfere with you so far as to free those
you willfully and wickedly hold in bondage."

And, referring to his movement: "It is, in my opinion, the greatest
service a man can render to God."

"I pity the poor in bondage that have none to help them; that is
why I am here; not to gratify any personal animosity, revenge, or
vindictive spirit. It is my sympathy with the oppressed and the
wronged, that are as good as you, and as precious in the sight of
God."

You don't know your testament when you see it.

"I want you to understand that I respect the rights of the poorest