Historic speech. “We will not rest until justice runs like water and truth runs like a mighty river.” — Martin Luther King

**Historical Speech: Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" Speech**

"We will never rest until justice runs like water and truth runs like a mighty river" is a quote from Martin Luther King's famous "I Have a Dream" speech, delivered on August 28, 1963, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C.

The speech was the final speech of the "March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom," a civil rights movement rally in Washington, D.C., that drew an estimated 250,000 people.

In his speech, King called for justice for black Americans, whose constitutional rights were still violated and who were subjected to racial segregation and discrimination despite the abolition of slavery a century earlier. The speech remains relevant today, not only in terms of promoting black rights, but also fundamental human rights and equality in society.

In connection with this date, in the next issue of the "Historical Speech" column, we bring you a translation of that famous speech:

**Excerpts from the speech:**

"A century ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This decisive decree was a great beacon of hope for millions of black slaves who were burning in the flames of cruel injustice. It was a joyful dawn that put an end to their long night of captivity.

However, 100 years later, black people are still not free. A hundred years later, black lives have been tragically ruined by the shackles of racial segregation and the chains of discrimination. A hundred years later, black people still live on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of an ocean of unparalleled material prosperity. For a hundred years and yet blacks are scorned in every corner of American society, living as if in exile in their own land.

And so we are gathered here today to make this shameful condition plain. In a sense, we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check.

When the architects of our republic wrote the glorious words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note that every American would inherit. That promissory note was a promise that all men—yes, not just white men, but black men as well—would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is as clear as day that America has failed to honor this debt to its black citizens. Instead of honoring this sacred duty, America has handed blacks a bad check—a check that came back with a "not enough money" stamp. the check.

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice has failed. We refuse to believe that there is not enough money in the vast treasury of this nation's potential. That is why we have come to cash this check—the check that will give us the blessings of freedom and the guarantee of justice upon our demand.

We have also come to this hallowed ground to remind America that this is a crucial moment. Now is not the time to be complacent or to accept the sedative of gradualism.

Now is the time to realize the promise of democracy. Now is the time to climb from the dark and troubled valley of racial segregation to the bright path of racial justice. Now is the time to lead our nation from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's servants.

To ignore the significance of this crucial moment would be disastrous for the nation. This scorching summer of righteous black protest will not pass until the refreshing autumn of freedom and equality comes. 1963 is not the end, but the beginning. Blacks have simply vented their anger, and those who hope that even if the country were to return to its old state, they will be more than satisfied are sorely mistaken.

There will be neither peace nor happiness in America until the blacks are granted civil rights. Until the bright day of justice comes, let the whirlpools of rebellion continue to shake the foundations of our nation.

But I have a word to say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold of the palace of justice. We must not resort to evil in the pursuit of our rightful place. Let us not try to quench our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of anger and hatred.

We must always hold our struggle high We must conduct ourselves with dignity and discipline. We must not allow our constructive dissent to turn into physical violence. We must rise again and again to the sublime height of spiritual resistance to physical force. This newfound vigor that has swept the black community must not lead us to look with distrust upon all whites. For many of our white brothers and sisters have come to realize that their fate is inextricably linked with our fate, and they are here today as proof of that.

They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably linked with our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we continue to walk, we must be determined to keep moving forward. We cannot turn back.

Some ask the civil rights activists, "How can you be content?" Blacks have been subjected to police brutality We will never be content as long as we are subjected to unspeakable horrors. We will never be content as long as our bodies, worn out by the pain of the road, cannot find shelter in the motels on the highways and the hotels in the cities.

We will never be content as long as the mobility of the black man is limited to moving from one small ghetto to another. We will never be content as long as our children are stripped of their identity and their dignity by signs that say "For Whites Only."

We will never be content as long as the black man in Mississippi cannot vote and the black man in New York knows that there is nothing worth voting for.

No, no, we will not be content, and we will not be content until justice rolls down like waters and truth flows like a mighty river.

Some of you have come here after great trials and hardships. I sense that you have come to me. There are many among you who have not yet been freed from the confines of a cramped prison cell. Some of you have come from areas where you have been subjected to the storms of persecution and the winds of police brutality for your quest for freedom. You are veterans of a selfless struggle.

Keep fighting with the belief that the suffering endured will lead to salvation. 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, and know that somehow this situation can and will change.

My friends, today I say to you, "Let us not sink into the valley of despair."

Even as we face the challenges of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is one that is deeply rooted in the American Dream. a dream that has been cast down. I dream that one day this nation will rise up and realize the true nature of its beliefs: that we will come to accept these truths—that all men are created equal—as self-evident truths.

I dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former owners will be able to sit down at the table of brotherhood.

I dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, burning in the heat of injustice and the fire of oppression, will be an oasis of freedom and justice.

I dream that one day my four children will live in a country where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. That is what I dream today.

I dream that one day in Alabama, despite its savage racists, its governor dripping with words of intervention and abolition, in that Alabama, black boys and girls will be able to walk hand in hand with white boys and girls as sisters and brothers. That is my dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley will be exalted, every hill and mountain will be made low, every crooked place will be made level, every crooked place will be made straight, the glory of the Creator will be revealed, and all mankind will see it together.

That is our hope. I return to the South with this confidence. With this confidence, we will hew a stone of hope from a mountain of despair. With this confidence, we will transform the noise of our nation's discord into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this confidence, we will work together, we will pray together, we will fight together, we will go to jail together, we will fight for freedom together, and we will live knowing that one day we will be free.

Then all of God's servants will be free. The day will come when I will be able to sing with new meaning: My homeland, this song is about you, O beautiful land of freedom, I will sing of you. The land where my fathers built their lives, the place where the pilgrims are proud, From every mountaintop let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, these words must become true. Then let freedom ring from the majestic hills of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the high Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snowy Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the crooked slopes of California. But not only that, but from Georgia's Stone Mountain. Let freedom ring from Tennessee's Lookout Mountain. Let freedom ring from every hill and dale of Mississippi. Let freedom ring from every mountain!

And when that happens, when we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and hamlet, from every state and city, we can hasten the day when all of God's people—black and white, Jew and Gentile, Protestant and Catholic—will join hands and sing in the words of the ancient black hymn:

Free at last! Free at last! Thank you, Almighty God, we are free at last!