Lyrics I Have a Dream - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today
signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon
light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering
injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later
the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the
chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island
of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years
later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds
himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful
condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects
of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration
of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to
fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men
would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of
Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note
insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation
America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked
"insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe
that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation.
And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches
of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of
Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing
drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is
the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path
of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial
injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality
for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering
summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating
autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning.
And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content
will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will
be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship
rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation
until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold
which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place
we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for
freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct
our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative
protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the
majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead
us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced
by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with
our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound
to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?"
We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors
of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the
fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels
of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote
and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are
not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters
and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations.
Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from
areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution
and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative
suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to
Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities
knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a
dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning
of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves
and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table
of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with
the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed
into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they
will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its
governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification"
-- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to
join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain
shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will
be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall
see it together."²
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of
hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation
into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work
together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand
up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will
be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every
village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed
up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles
Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the
old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!