That our government should have been maintained in its original

The words of Abraham Lincoln echo like a solemn hymn of gratitude and endurance: “That our government should have been maintained in its original form from its establishment until now is not much to be wondered at. It had many props to support it through that period, which now are decayed and crumbled away. Through that period, it was felt by all to be an undecided experiment; now, it is understood to be a successful one.” These lines, spoken by a man who bore the weight of a divided nation upon his shoulders, reflect both humility and triumph. In them, Lincoln acknowledges the fragile miracle of the American Republic—a nation born from daring ideals, sustained through storms of trial, and proven, through struggle and sacrifice, to be not a dream, but a living, breathing reality.

The origin of this quote reaches back to 1838, when a young Lincoln, barely twenty-nine years old, delivered his famous Lyceum Address in Springfield, Illinois. At that time, the United States was still young—a country of vast promise, yet fraught with division, violence, and uncertainty. The founding generation, those who had fought for independence and built the framework of government, were passing away. Their memories, their sacrifices, and their moral authority—the “props,” as Lincoln called them—were fading into history. The republic they left behind now stood alone, sustained not by heroes past, but by the virtue and wisdom of its citizens. The question Lincoln posed was timeless: could a free people preserve liberty without the constant presence of the founders’ spirit to guide them?

In the ancient style, let us ponder his meaning. Every great creation of man—whether empire, institution, or idea—begins as an experiment. It is fragile, uncertain, and easily undone by pride or ignorance. The American government, born in the fires of revolution, was one such experiment: a system of self-rule resting on the faith that ordinary men could govern themselves without kings, without tyrants, and without collapse. In its youth, this government stood protected by the reverence people held for its founders—by the memory of Washington, the wisdom of Jefferson, and the courage of those who signed their names to the Declaration of Independence. These memories were the pillars that held up the young republic. But as Lincoln warned, those pillars would someday “crumble away,” and then the true test would begin.

When Lincoln spoke, he could already feel those supports weakening. Violence was spreading across the land—mob rule in the cities, political hatred festering in the halls of Congress, and the great moral wound of slavery tearing the nation’s conscience in two. The founders’ legacy could no longer shield the republic; it was now for a new generation to uphold it, not with memory, but with conviction. Yet even in those darkening days, Lincoln’s words carried hope. He believed that the experiment of liberty was no longer uncertain. It had survived its infancy; it had proven its worth. The task now was not to question whether self-government could endure, but whether men and women would prove themselves worthy of the freedom they had inherited.

History would soon test that belief. When the Civil War erupted two decades later, Lincoln found himself at the helm of that very experiment. The “props” of the old order—unity, faith, and trust—had indeed crumbled, and the nation trembled on the edge of destruction. Yet through that storm, Lincoln’s conviction never faltered. He saw that the republic’s endurance would not depend on armies alone, but on the moral strength of its people—their faith in democracy, their willingness to sacrifice for one another, and their understanding that liberty is sustained not by bloodlines, but by belief. In the end, through war and sorrow, his words were vindicated. The experiment survived; the union endured; the world learned that a government of the people, by the people, and for the people could, indeed, stand the test of time.

But Lincoln’s wisdom carries a warning as well as a triumph. He reminds us that even successful experiments can fail if their purpose is forgotten. The “props” of one generation—its heroes, its ideals, its institutions—will always decay. Each age must build its own supports, grounded in the same eternal truths: justice, equality, and moral courage. A republic, once taken for granted, begins to wither from within. The decay of faith in self-government is the true enemy, more dangerous than any foreign threat. Thus, Lincoln’s words call upon every citizen, in every era, to remember that freedom is not a gift handed down—it is a responsibility continually renewed.

So, my children of the future, take this teaching to heart: the endurance of freedom depends not on those who created it, but on those who preserve it. Every generation must fight anew—not with muskets and cannons, but with wisdom, virtue, and the strength to resist apathy. Cherish your institutions, but do not idolize them; reform them when they falter, and defend them when they are attacked. For a government that began as an experiment must always remain an experiment, renewed by the conscience of its people.

And when doubt arises—when the storms of division threaten to tear the fabric of unity once more—remember the voice of Abraham Lincoln, who stood in an age of uncertainty and declared that the American experiment had proven itself. The founders’ props may crumble, the heroes may fade, but the principle endures: that mankind can, by reason and by virtue, govern itself. Guard that truth, as one guards a sacred flame. For it is not only the soul of a nation—it is the hope of all the world.