O cry aloud over the Earth for the children of men, of immortal destinies!

* * * * *

The great orator stands upon the platform,

Careless of approval and careless of opposition he speaks from himself alone.

He is determined and will not abate one tittle of his determination.

The arguments, the pros and cons, he treats lightly—after a time he dismisses them;

Traditions of science and literature he discusses for a while, and then—somehow—quietly puts them aside;

Flowers and figures of rhetoric he uses, but presently they fail and fall away.

* * * * *

From the great rock-bases of his own humanity, of his own imperious instinct and determination, he appeals with uplifted arm to God and eternal Justice—

And from a thousand eyes flash the lightnings of tears and joy, from that vast sea of faces breaks a roar of terrible and deep-throated accord.

The arguments, the pros and cons, fly high in the air like leaves in a gale;

The tradition of centuries loses its form and outline—like melting ice in water.

From her deep-implanted seat in the human breast, from behind all reasoning and science and arguments,

Humanity speaks her Will, and writes a page of History.