and which cannot be filled unless the dear native land comes to be breathed
on by the grace, clad in the robes, armed with the thunders, admitted an
equal to the assembly of the nations; to that large and heroical ambition
which would build States: that imperial philanthropy which would open to
liberty an asylum here, and give to the sick heart, hard fare, fettered
conscience of the children of the Old World, healing, plenty, and freedom
to worship God,--to these passions, and these ideas, he presented the
appeal for months, day after day, until, on the third of July, 1776, he
could record the result, writing thus to his wife: "Yesterday the greatest
question was decided which ever was debated in America; and a greater,
perhaps, never was, nor will be, among men."

Of that series of spoken eloquence all is perished; not one reported
sentence has come down to us. The voice through which the rising spirit of
a young nation sounded out its dream of life is hushed. The great
spokesman, of an age unto an age, is dead.

And yet, of those lost words is not our whole America one immortal record
and reporter? Do ye not read them, deep cut, defying the tooth of time, on
all the marble of our greatness? How they blaze on the pillars of our
Union! How is their deep sense unfolded and interpreted by every passing
hour! How do they come to life, and grow audible, as it were, in the
brightening rays of the light he foresaw, as the fabled invisible heart
gave out its music to the morning!

Yes, in one sense, they are perished. No parchment manuscript, no embalming
printed page, no certain traditions of living or dead, have kept them. Yet,
from out and from off all things around us,--our laughing harvests, our
songs of labor, our commerce on all the seas, our secure homes, our
school-houses and churches, our happy people, our radiant and stainless