Historical voices

The dealers in the bodies and souls of men erect their stand in the presence of the pulpit, and they mutually help each other.

The clanking of fetters and the rattling of chains in the prison, and the pious psalm and solemn prayer in the church, may be heard at the same time.

Revivals of religion and revivals in the slave-trade go hand in hand together.

The slave auctioneer’s bell and the church-going bell chime in with each other, and the bitter cries of the heart-broken slave are drowned in the religious shouts of his pious master.

We have men sold to build churches, women sold to support the gospel, and babes sold to purchase Bibles for the Poor Heathen!

We see the thief preaching against theft, and the adulterer against adultery.

The warm defender of the sacredness of the family relation is the same that scatters whole families,—sundering husbands and wives, parents and children, sisters and brothers,—leaving the hut vacant, and the hearth desolate.

He who is the religious advocate of marriage robs whole millions of its sacred influence, and leaves them to the ravages of wholesale pollution.

He who proclaims it a religious duty to read the Bible denies me the right of learning to read the name of the God who made me.

He who sells my sister, for purposes of prostitution, stands forth as the pious advocate of purity.

The man who robs me of my earnings at the end of each week meets me as a class-leader on Sunday morning, to show me the way of life, and the path of salvation.

The man who wields the blood-clotted cowskin during the week fills the pulpit on Sunday, and claims to be a minister of the meek and lowly Jesus.

We have men-stealers for ministers, women-whippers for missionaries, and cradle-plunderers for church members.

I look upon it as the climax of all misnomers, the boldest of all frauds, and the grossest of all libels.

I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial Christianity of Christ: I therefore hate the corrupt, slaveholding, women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical Christianity of this land.

To be the friend of the one, is of necessity to be the enemy of the other.

From that time until now, I have been engaged in pleading the cause of my brethren—with what success, and with what devotion, I leave those acquainted with my labors to decide.

The truth was, I felt myself a slave, and the idea of speaking to white people weighed me down.

I could do but little; but what I could, I did with a joyful heart, and never felt happier than when in an anti-slavery meeting.

I had not long been a reader of the “Liberator,” before I got a pretty correct idea of the principles, measures and spirit of the anti-slavery reform.

Its sympathy for my brethren in bonds—its scathing denunciations of slaveholders—its faithful exposures of slavery—and its powerful attacks upon the upholders of the institution—sent a thrill of joy through my soul, such as I had never…

It was to me the starting-point of a new existence.

I worked that day with a pleasure I had never before experienced.

There was no Master Hugh standing ready, the moment I earned the money, to rob me of it.