God is and all is well. - John Greenleaf Whittier

I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground
Ye tread with boldness shod;
I dare not fix with mete and bound
The love and power of God...
I know not where his islands lift
Their fronded palms in the air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond his love and care.

Their right, like that of their white fellow-citizens, dates back to the dread arbitrament of war. Their bones whiten every stricken field of the Revolution; their feet tracked with blood the snows of Jersey; their toil built up every fortification south of the Potomac; they shared the famine and nakedness of Valley Forge, and the pestilential horrors of the old Jersey prison ship.

Weary lawyers with endless tongues.