Þe Gettysburg bode

[Ædƿine]

Four skore and sefen geres ago ure faþers brougt forþ on þis ƿorlddeal, a neƿ rike, begotten in Freedom, and beteed to þe þougt þat all men are crafted efenly.

Nue ƿe are dealnimming in a great borougerƿye, fanding hƿeþer þat rike, or any rike so begotten and so beteed, can long last. Ƿe are met on a great guþe-feeld of þat ƿye. Ƿe hafe cume to betee a deal of þat feeld, as an endly resting stead for þose hƿo here gafe her lifes þat þat rike migt life. It is altogeþer fitting and findy þat ƿe sculd do þis.

But, in a greater feeling, ƿe can not betee – ƿe can not hode – ƿe can not halloƿ – þis grund. Þe dugt men, lifing and dead, hƿo struggeled here, hafe halloƿed it, far abufe ure noug migt to eke or lessen. Þe ƿorld ƿill little note, nor long mimmer hƿat ƿe say here, but it can nefer forget hƿat hy did here. It is for us þe lifing, raþer, to be beteed here to þe unfuldoed ƿork hƿic hy hƿo fougt here hafe þus far so lonkly forþed. It is raþer for us to be here beteed to þe great errand lingering before us – þat from þese ƿorþed dead ƿe take in ƿaxed beteeing to þat end for hƿic hy gafe þe last full breadþ of beteeing – þat ƿe here higly stand þat þese dead scall not hafe died in idel – þat þis rike, under God, scall hafe a neƿ birþ of freedom – and þat ƿeeld of þe folk, by þe folk, for þe folk, scall not cƿeal from þe earþ.