| |
The "Unknown" who swayed
the
Signers of the Declaration of Independence
|
| |
|
Faced with the death penalty for high
treason, courageous men debated long before they picked up the quill pen to sign the
parchment that declared the independence of the colonies from the mother country on July
4, 1776. For many hours they had debated in the State House at Philadelphia, with the
lower chamber doors locked and a guard posted.
|
|
According to Jefferson, it was late in the
afternoon before the delegates gathered their courage to the sticking point. The talk was
about axes, scaffolds, and the gibbet, when suddenly a strong, bold voice
sounded--"Gibbet! They may stretch our necks on all the gibbets in the land; they may
turn every rock into a scaffold; every tree into a gallows; every home into a grave, and
yet the words of that parchment can never die! They may pour our blood on a thousand
scaffolds, and yet from every drop that dies the axe a new champion of freedom will spring
into birth! The British King may blot out the stars of God from the sky, but he cannot
blot out His words written on that parchment there. The works of God may perish; His
words, never!
|
|
"The words of this declaration will
live in the world long after our bones are dust. To the mechanic in his workshop they will
speak hope: to the slave in the mines freedom: but to the coward kings, these words will
speak in tones of warning they cannot choose but hear.
|
|
"Sign that parchment! Sign, if the
next moment the gibbet's rope is about your neck! Sign, if the next minute this hall rings
with the clash of falling axes! Sign, by all of your hopes in life or death, as men, as
husbands, as fathers, brothers, sign your names to the parchment, or be accursed forever!
Sign, and not only for yourselves, but for all ages, for that parchment will be the
textbook of freedom, the bible of the rights of man forever.
|
|
"Nay, do not start and whisper with
surprise! It is truth, your own hearts witness it: God proclaims it. Look at this strange
band of exiles and outcasts, suddenly transformed into a people; a handful of men, weak in
arms, but mighty in God-like faith; nay, look at your recent achievements, your Bunker
Hill, you Lexington, and then tell me, if you can, that God has not given America to be
free!
|
|
"It is not give to our poor human
intellect to climb to the skies and to pierce the Council of the Almighty One. But
methinks I stand among the awful clouds which veils the brightness of Jehovah's throne.
|
|
"Methinks I see the recording Angel
come trembling up to the throne and speak his dread message. 'Father, the old world is
baptized in blood. Father, look with one glance of Thine eternal eye, and behold evermore
that terrible sight, man trodden beneath the oppressor's feet, nations lost in blood,
murder, and superstition, walking hand in hand over the graves of the victims, and not a
single voice of hope to man!'
|
|
"He stands there, the Angel, trembling
with the record of human guilt, But hark! The voice of God speaks from the awful cloud:
'Let there be Light again! Tell my people, the poor and oppressed, to go out from the old
world, from oppression and blood, and build my alter in the new.'
|
|
"As I live, my friends, I believe that
to be his voice! Yes, were my soul trembling on the verge of eternity, were this hand
freezing in death, were this voice choking in the last struggle, I would still, with the
last impulse of that soul, with the last wave of that hand, with the last gasp of that
voice, implore you to remember this truth--God has given America to be free!
|
|
"Yes, as I sank into the gloomy
shadows of the grave, with my last faint whisper I would beg you to sign that parchment
for the sake of those millions whose very breath is now hushed in intense expactation as
they look up to you for the awful words: 'You are free.'"
|
|
The unknown speaker fell exhausted into his
seat. The delegates, carried away by his enthusiasm, rushed forward. John Hancock scarcely
had time to pen his bold signature before the quill was grasped by another. It was done.
|
|
The delegates turned to express their
gratitude to the unknown speaker for his elequent words. He was not there.
|
|
Who was this strange man, who seemed to
speak with a divine authority, whose solemn words gave courage to the doubters and sealed
the destiny of the new nation?
|
|
His name is not recorded; none of those
present knew him; or if they did they did, not one acknowledged the acquaintance.
|
|
How he had entered into the locked and
guarded room is not told, nor is there any record of the manner of his departure.
|
|
(Taken from the book:
The Secret Destiny
of America.
)
|
|
|
