The sacred rights of mankind are not to be rummaged for among

Hear the thunderous words of Alexander Hamilton, one of the architects of liberty: “The sacred rights of mankind are not to be rummaged for among old parchments or musty records. They are written, as with a sunbeam, in the whole volume of human nature, by the hand of the divinity itself; and can never be erased or obscured by mortal power.” In this, Hamilton declared a truth that blazes across the ages: that freedom and dignity are not fragile relics found in books or decrees, but eternal laws inscribed upon the very soul of humanity.

For what are sacred rights but the eternal inheritance of every human being? Kings may issue edicts, parliaments may pass laws, and judges may interpret statutes, but none of these grant the essence of liberty. That gift is older than nations, older than constitutions, older even than memory. Hamilton saw that these rights are carved into the fabric of human nature itself, as clear as the sun upon the earth, as constant as the stars in the night sky.

Consider the imagery: not parchment, not records, but a sunbeam. A parchment may be torn, a record may decay, a document may be burned. But who can extinguish the sun? Its light falls upon all without distinction, illuminating king and beggar alike. So too the rights of mankind—self-evident, undeniable, shining upon every soul regardless of station. When Hamilton spoke, he was answering the tyranny of those who believed power flowed from crowns and charters. He proclaimed instead that power flows from the eternal law of the Creator, written directly into the heart of man.

History itself affirms his vision. When the French Revolution erupted, its cry was not for privileges bestowed by kings, but for the rights of man long denied. When enslaved peoples in Haiti rose up, they invoked not the parchment of monarchs but the divinity that had written liberty into their very being. When Abraham Lincoln declared that a nation could not endure half slave and half free, he did not appeal only to laws, but to the eternal justice written in the soul of mankind. Again and again, the oppressed have risen by the light of that sunbeam, reminding the world that no mortal power can silence the eternal voice of freedom.

But see also the danger Hamilton warned against: when people forget that their rights are divine and innate, they become vulnerable to chains disguised as laws. When they search only among musty records for their liberty, they risk losing it to those who manipulate words on paper. Rights do not live because they are written—they are written because they live. The parchment records them, but the soul proclaims them. It is this order that must never be forgotten.

What lesson, then, must you take from this? It is this: guard your sacred rights not as possessions loaned by governments, but as gifts of your very existence. Do not wait for permission to be free, to speak truth, to pursue dignity. Remember always that these are yours by birth, by the will of the divinity, and no ruler, no tyrant, no army can erase them. Laws may protect them, but laws do not create them.

Therefore, O seekers of truth, live boldly in the light of that sunbeam. Stand firm against those who would obscure it with fear, deceit, or oppression. Teach your children that their dignity is not granted by man but by God. And when you face the shadow of mortal power, remember Hamilton’s words: it cannot erase what has been written by eternity itself. For the volume of human nature is the true charter of liberty, and its pages shine forever with the radiance of the sacred rights of mankind.