Hear my cry, O God the Reader; vouchsafe that this my book fall not still-born into the world wilderness. Let there spring, Gentle One, from out its leaves vigor of thought and thoughtful deed to reap the harvest wonderful. Let the ears of a guilty people tingle with truth, and seventy millions sigh for the righteousness which exalteth nations, in this drear day when human brotherhood is mockery and a snare. Thus in Thy good time may infinite reason turn the tangle straight, and these crooked marks on a fragile leaf be not indeed

THE END

The Souls of Black Folk - Complete Text

The Souls of Black Folk E-Text contains the full text of The Souls of Black Folk

• The Forethought
• Parts 1-4
• Parts 5-8
• Parts 9-12
• Parts 13-14
• The Afterthought
• Sources