‘From every mountainside, let freedom ring’

Following is the text of “I Have a Dream,” by Martin Luther King Jr.

The speech was delivered on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in

Washington, D.C., on Aug. 28, 1963.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow

we stand, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree

came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who

had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a

joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity. But one hundred

years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not

free.

One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly

crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of

discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely

island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material

prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing

in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his

own land.

So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition. In

a sense we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When

the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the

Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a

promissory note to which every American was to fall heir.

This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the

inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It

is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note

insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring

this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad

check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.” But we refuse

to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe

that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity

of this nation.

So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us

upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We

have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce

urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling

off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time

to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the

sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of

opportunity to all of God’s children. Now is the time to lift our

nation from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of

brotherhood.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the

moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. This

sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass

until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality.

Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope

that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will

have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual.

There will be neither rest nor tranquillity in America until the

Negro is granted his citizenship rights.

The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of

our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. But there is

something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm

threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of

gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds.

Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from

the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity

and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate

into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic

heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community

must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our

white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come

to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their

freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that

we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are

asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We

can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue

of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the

hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s

basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never

be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a

Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no,

we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice

rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great

trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow

cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom

left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the

winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative

suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is

redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia, go

back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern

cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my

friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the

moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the

American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out

the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be

self-evident: that all men are created equal.” I have a dream that

one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the

sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a

table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of

Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice

and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and

justice. I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a

nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but

by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor’s

lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and

nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little

black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little

white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every

hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made

plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of

the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the

South. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of

despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform

the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of

brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to

pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand

up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to

sing with a new meaning, “My country, ‘tis of thee, sweet land of

liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the

pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.” And if

America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom

ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania! Let freedom

ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado! Let freedom ring from

the curvaceous peaks of California! But not only that; let freedom

ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia! Let freedom ring from Lookout

Mountain of Tennessee! Let freedom ring from every hill and every

molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village

and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to

speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white

men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to

join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at

last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”