Our Declaration of Independence was held sacred by all and

The words of Abraham Lincoln, spoken in a time of peril and division, thunder across the centuries with prophetic sorrow and moral fire. When he said, “Our Declaration of Independence was held sacred by all and thought to include all; but now, to aid in making the bondage of the Negro universal and eternal, it is assailed, sneered at, construed, hawked at, and torn, till, if its framers could rise from their graves, they could not at all recognize it,” he was not merely describing the corruption of a document—he was lamenting the corruption of a nation’s soul. His words were forged in the crucible of America’s darkest hour, when the ideals of liberty were betrayed by those who twisted freedom to justify oppression.

To understand the origin of this quote, we must return to the stormy years before the American Civil War, when the question of slavery was tearing the young republic apart. The Declaration of Independence, written by Thomas Jefferson in 1776, had proclaimed that “all men are created equal,” and for generations, that line had been revered as sacred scripture of democracy. But by the mid-19th century, as the slaveholding South sought to defend and expand human bondage, this sacred truth was being mocked and reinterpreted. Pro-slavery advocates claimed that the Declaration did not apply to Black men and women, that its promise of equality was meant only for the white race. Lincoln, appalled by this betrayal, saw it as a desecration of the very foundation upon which the nation stood. His words are a cry of anguish and defiance—an appeal to the conscience of America to remember its founding faith.

Lincoln’s grief and indignation flow through this passage like a river of light through darkness. He saw that when a nation begins to twist its own principles to excuse evil, it begins to unravel from within. The Declaration of Independence, once the beacon of hope for humanity, was being used as a shield for tyranny. Its noble ideals—liberty, equality, and human dignity—were being “hawked at and torn,” traded like a commodity in the marketplace of politics. Lincoln’s image of the founding fathers rising from their graves, unable to recognize their own creation, is both haunting and powerful. It reminds us that nations, like people, can betray their own beginnings when they forget the moral purpose that gave them life.

To understand the emotional force behind Lincoln’s words, one must remember the world he faced. In 1857, the Supreme Court of the United States issued the infamous Dred Scott decision, declaring that African Americans could not be citizens and that Congress had no authority to prohibit slavery in the territories. This ruling, which struck at the heart of freedom itself, filled Lincoln with moral fury. He saw that the principles of the Revolution—the belief in the equality of man—were being reversed. The framers of the Republic, who had lit the torch of liberty, were being betrayed by their descendants. For Lincoln, this was not only a political crisis—it was a spiritual one, a question of whether America still believed in its own soul.

There is an ancient parallel to Lincoln’s lament. Consider the story of Moses and the Israelites, who, having been delivered from slavery, began to forget the covenant that had freed them. When they built a golden calf and worshiped it in place of the living God, Moses descended from the mountain in fury and broke the tablets of the law, for his people had traded truth for comfort. So too did Lincoln behold a nation that had turned its golden principles into idols of convenience. In his day, the golden calf was slavery, and the worshipers were those who profited from it. The Declaration of Independence—like the commandments of old—had become a shattered relic in the hands of men who no longer understood its holiness.

In the tone of the ancients, we may say: liberty must be guarded not only by arms but by memory. Lincoln’s warning reaches beyond his age and into ours: that freedom is never permanent, and its meaning can be stolen if not fiercely defended. When people grow comfortable in their privilege, when they reinterpret justice to serve their own gain, they desecrate the covenant of their ancestors. The Declaration, in Lincoln’s view, was not a document of convenience—it was a moral contract, written in the blood and sweat of those who dared to defy tyranny. To distort its meaning was to defile its sanctity.

The lesson of Lincoln’s words is as timeless as it is urgent: freedom without morality is corruption, and independence without justice is hypocrisy. Every generation must choose whether to honor or to betray the ideals handed down to it. The founding principles of equality and liberty cannot remain alive through reverence alone—they must be lived, defended, and expanded, even when the cost is great. Lincoln himself would pay that cost with his life, but in doing so, he restored meaning to the words he so deeply revered.

And so, the practical path is this: hold sacred the principles of truth and equality in every sphere of life. Let no cynic or oppressor twist the words of freedom to chain another human being. Remember that independence is not an inheritance—it is a duty renewed daily through action and conscience. As Abraham Lincoln teaches, the promise of the Declaration of Independence belongs not to one race or age, but to all mankind. Guard it well, for when its meaning is forgotten, liberty itself begins to die. But when it is remembered, cherished, and lived—then even the dead, the framers who first dreamed of freedom, will recognize their nation once more.