When The Green Hills Are Covered With

This We Know. All Things Are Connected

Your God Loves Your People And Hates Mine; He Folds His Strong Arms Lovingly Around The White Man And Leads Him As A Father Leads His Infant Son, But He Has Forsaken His Red Children; He Makes Your People Wax Strong Every Day, And Soon They Will Fill The Land; While My People Are Ebbing Away Like A Fast-receding Tide, That Will Never Flow Again. The White Man's God Cannot Love His Red Children Or He Would Protect Them. They Seem To Be Orphans Who Can Look Nowhere For Help.

All Creation Is One. What We Do To One, We Do To The Entire Web Of Life.

What Is There To Life If A Man Cannot Hear The Lonely Cry Of The Whippoorwill Or The Arguments Of The Frogs Around The Pool At Night?

The White Man's Dead Forget The Country Of Their Birth When They Go To Walk Among The Stars. Our Dead Never Forget This Beautiful Earth, For It Is The Mother Of The Red Man. We Are Part Of The Earth And It Is Part Of Us.