From you we have learned what we, at least, value, to separate

Hear the solemn words of Seth Low, spoken in reverence for the wisdom of those who came before: “From you we have learned what we, at least, value, to separate Church and State; and from you we gather inspiration at all times in our devotion to learning, to religious liberty, and to individual and National freedom.” In this utterance lies the recognition that liberty is not the invention of a single age, but the inheritance of generations; that from the struggles of the past we draw the foundations of our present freedom.

The heart of Low’s words lies in the great principle: the separation of Church and State. For centuries, kingdoms and empires bound religion to power, demanding obedience not only to rulers but to faiths enforced by law. This union often birthed persecution, corruption, and bloodshed, as conscience was sacrificed upon the altar of politics. To separate them was not to dishonor faith, but to preserve it—allowing belief to live in the free heart, not under the compulsion of the sword. Low declares that this principle, learned through history’s trials, is one of the highest values of a free people.

He also speaks of religious liberty, a treasure won only through struggle. In the early days of America, those who fled from Europe carried memories of persecution—of Huguenots driven from France, of dissenters silenced in England, of wars fought in the name of God. From these sorrows was born the conviction that no man should suffer for his conscience. The example of Roger Williams, founder of Rhode Island, shines brightly: he proclaimed that “forced worship stinks in the nostrils of God,” and built a colony where faith could be free. His vision lived on, and in time, became the law of a nation.

Low ties these values also to learning, for he knew that freedom is not preserved by ignorance, but by wisdom. A people who cannot read, who cannot think, who cannot reason, will soon be enslaved again—if not by kings, then by demagogues. The devotion to learning is therefore not a luxury, but a defense, a shield of the mind against tyranny. History reminds us of this: when Gutenberg’s press spread books to the common people, knowledge broke the chains of unquestioned authority, and a new age of liberty began.

From these roots comes the flower of individual and National freedom. Individual freedom is the right of each soul to think, to worship, to speak, to live without chains. National freedom is the right of a people to govern themselves, to resist domination, to shape their own destiny. These freedoms are bound together, for no nation is truly free if its people are enslaved, and no people are truly free if their nation bows to tyranny. Low’s words remind us that both must be cherished, defended, and passed on.

The lesson here is clear: freedom is not born from accident, nor is it preserved by silence. It is the fruit of struggle, the legacy of those who resisted oppression, and the responsibility of those who inherit it. To separate Church and State is to protect both; to guard religious liberty is to honor conscience; to value learning is to safeguard the mind; and to cherish freedom is to defend the dignity of all.

Practical action flows from this wisdom. Defend the rights of others, even when their faith or speech is not your own. Support schools, libraries, and institutions that keep knowledge alive. Guard against the creeping union of political power with religious compulsion. And remember that freedom, both personal and national, is fragile—it requires vigilance, courage, and devotion.

Thus, Seth Low’s words endure as both homage and exhortation: that from the lessons of the past, we draw inspiration for the present, and from our devotion to liberty and learning, we shape a future where conscience is free, knowledge is honored, and the dignity of every individual is preserved. Let every generation remember: these values are not merely inherited—they must be lived, defended, and renewed.