Truth, justice, reason, humanity, must and
will gloriously triumph. Already a host is coming up to the help of the
Lord against the mighty, and the prospect before us is full of
encouragement.

"Submitting this declaration to the candid examination of the people of
this country, and of the friends of liberty all over the world, we hereby
affix our signatures to it; pledging ourselves that, under the guidance
and by the help of Almighty God, we will do all that in us lies,
consistently with this declaration of our principles, to overthrow the
most execrable system of slavery that has ever been witnessed upon earth,
to deliver our land from its deadliest curse, to wipe out the foulest
stain which rests upon our national escutcheon, and to secure to the
colored population of the United States all the rights and privileges
which belong to them as men and as Americans, come what may to our
persons, our interests, or our reputations, whether we live to witness
the triumph of justice, liberty, and humanity, or perish untimely as
martyrs in this great, benevolent, and holy cause."

The reading of the paper was followed by a discussion which lasted
several hours. A member of the Society of Friends moved its immediate
adoption. "We have," he said, "all given it our assent: every heart here
responds to it. It is a doctrine of Friends that these strong and deep
impressions should be heeded." The Convention, nevertheless, deemed it
important to go over the declaration carefully, paragraph by paragraph.
During the discussion, one of the spectators asked leave to say a few
words. A beautiful and graceful woman, in the prime of life, with a face
beneath her plain cap as finely intellectual as that of Madame Roland,
offered some wise and valuable suggestions, in a clear, sweet voice, the
charm of which I have never forgotten. It was Lucretia Mott of
Philadelphia. The president courteously thanked her, and encouraged her
to take a part in the discussion. On the morning of the last day of our
session, the declaration, with its few verbal amendments, carefully
engrossed on parchment, was brought before the Convention. Samuel J. May
rose to read it for the last time. His sweet, persuasive voice faltered
with the intensity of his emotions as he repeated the solemn pledges of
the concluding paragraphs. After a season of silence, David Thurston of
Maine rose as his name was called by one of the secretaries, and affixed
his name t