THE CAPITOLThe Second Inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States, in front of the Capitol, Washington, March 4, 1865topEdwin Markham, born at Oregon City, Oregon, April 23, 1852; settled in California in 1857, and worked there during his boyhood, principally as a blacksmith. Worked his way through the San Jose Normal School and Santa Rosa College. Became a writer of stories and verse for papers and magazines, and principal and superintendent of California schools. Was the author ofThe Man With the Hoe, and Other Poems(1899);The Man With the Hoe, with Notes by the Author(1900);The End of the Century(1899);Lincoln, the Great Commoner(1900);The Mighty Hundred Years; Lincoln and Other Poems(1901);The Shoes of Happiness(1915). HisMan With the Hoewas extensively republished and gave him wide fame.LINCOLN THE MAN OF THE PEOPLEWhenthe Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour,Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,She bent the strenuous Heavens and came downTo make a man to meet the mortal need.She took the tried clay of the commonroad—Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy;Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff.It was a stuff to wear for centuries,A man that matched the mountains, and compelledThe stars to look our way and honor us.The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;The tang and odor of the primalthings—The rectitude and patience of the rocks;The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;The courage of the bird that dares the sea;The justice of the rain that loves all leaves;The pity of snow that hides all scars;The loving-kindness of the wayside well;topThe tolerance and equity of lightThat gives as freely to the shrinking weedAs to the great oak flaring to thewind—To the grave's low hill as to the MatterhornThat shoulders out the sky.And so he came.From prairie cabin up to Capitol,One fair ideal led our chieftain on.Forevermore he burned to do his deedWith the fine stroke and gesture of a king.He built the rail pile as he built the State,Pouring his splendid strength through every blow,The conscience of him testing every stroke,To make his deed the measure of a man.So came the Captain with the mighty heart;And when the step of earthquake shook the house,Wresting the rafters from their ancient hold,He held the ridge-pole up and spiked againThe rafters of the Home. He held hisplace—Held the long purpose like a growingtree—Held on through blame and faltered not at praise,And when he fell, in whirlwind, he went downAs when a kingly cedar, green with boughs,Goes down with a great shout upon the hills,And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.topTHE WHITE HOUSEThecorner-stone was laid by George Washington on the 13th of October, 1792. The mansion was first occupied by President John Adams in the year 1800, also by every succeeding President. British troops burned it in 1814, in President Madison's term. It was the first public building erected in Washington. It is constructed of Virginia freestone, and is 170 feet in length, 80 feet in depth, and consists of a rustic basement, two stories and an attic.John Vance Cheney, born Groveland, New York, December 29, 1848. Graduated Temple Hill Academy, Genesee, New York, at seventeen. Assistant principal there two years later. Practiced law, New York, 1875-6; librarian Free Public Library, San Francisco, 1887-94; Newberry Library, Chicago, 1894-1909; author,The Old Doctor,1881; and a number of poems, 1887-1911.topLINCOLNThehour was on us; where the man?The fateful sands unfaltering ran,And up the way of tearsHe came into the years.Our pastoral captain. Forth he came,As one that answers to his name;Nor dreamed how high his charge,His work how fair and large,To set the stones back in the wallLest the divided house should fall,And peace from men depart,Hope and the childlike heart.We looked on him; "'Tis he," we said,"Come crownless and unheralded,The shepherd who will keepThe flocks, will fold the sheep."Unknightly, yes: yet 'twas the mienPresaging the immortal scene,Some battles of His warsWho sealeth up the stars.topNot he would take the past betweenHis hands, wipe valor's tablets clean,Commanding greatness waitTill he stands at the gate;Not he would cramp to one small headThe awful laurels of the dead,Time's mighty vintage cup,And drink all honor up.No flutter of the banners boldBorne by the lusty sons of old,The haughty conquerorsSet forward to their wars;Not his their blare, their pageantries,Their goal, their glory, was not his;Humbly he came to keepThe flocks, to fold the sheep.The need comes not without the man;The prescient hours unceasing ran,And up the way of tearsHe came into the years.Our pastoral captain, skilled to crookThe spear into the pruning hook,The simple, kindly man,Lincoln, American.topWHERE LINCOLN WORSHIPPEDNew York Avenue Presbyterian Church, Washington, D. C.President Lincolnand family attended this church during his Administration. The pew that they occupied is still preserved in its black walnut trimmings, though the rest of the sanctuary has been refurnished.topLyman Whitney Allen, born at St. Louis, November 19, 1854. Bachelor of Arts, Washington University, St. Louis, 1878; later Master of Arts, Princeton Theological, 1878-80; Post-graduate studies at Princeton University; (D.D., University of Wooster, 1897). Ordained Presbyterian Minister, 1882; stated supply Kimmswick, Missouri, 1881-3; DeSoto, Missouri, 1883-5; Pastor-elect Carondelet Church, St. Louis, Missouri, 1885-9; Pastor South Park Church, Newark, New Jersey, since 1889. Director Board of Home Missions, Presbyterian; Chaplain New Jersey Society D. A. R.; Member Society American Authors; New Jersey Society S. A. R. Club, Princeton (New York). Has written many poems and articles, including the New YorkHerald's$1,000 prize poem which was published in 1895.Rev. Dr. Lyman Whitney Allen of Newark, New Jersey, had for his guest Chief Justice Wendell Phillips Stafford of the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia. Judge Stafford addressed the Men's Club of Dr. Allen's church one evening, and next day, in company with his host, visited the Lincoln statue on the court-house plaza. On the train that bore him back to Washington that day, Judge Stafford wrote the poem on the Statue. (Seepage 236).A few weeks thereafter Dr. Allen visited his friend, the judge, in Washington, and they made a little pilgrimage to the New York Avenue Presbyterian church. In the Lincoln pew Dr. Allen sat and meditated, and on his way back he wrote the verses."I had seen the Lincoln statue many times," says Dr. Allen, "but, somehow, I could not get started on the poem I knew could be written around it." And Judge Stafford wrote to his friend in Newark: "I had seen the Lincoln pew a score of times without poetic result, yet you come on a one-day visit and carry away the inspiration needed."topLINCOLN'S CHURCH IN WASHINGTONWithinthe historic church both eye and soulPerceived it. 'Twas the pew where Lincolnsat—The only Lincoln God hath given tomen—Olden among the modern seats of prayer,Dark like the 'sixties, place and past akin.All else has changed, but this remains the same,A sanctuary in a sanctuary.Where Lincoln prayed! What passion had hissoul—Mixt faith and anguish melting into prayerUpon the burning altar of God's fane,A nation's altar even as his own.Where Lincoln prayed! Such worshipers as heMake thin ranks down the ages. Wouldst thou knowHis spirit suppliant? Then must thou feelWar's fiery baptism, taste hate's bitter cup,Spend similar sweat of blood vicarious,And sound the cry, "If it be possible!"From stricken heart in new Gethsemane.Who saw him there are gone, as he is gone;The pew remains, with what God gave him there,And all the world through him. So let itbe—One of the people's shrines.topLINCOLN IN 1858From a photograph in possession of Mr. Stuart Brown of Springfield, IllinoistopJohn James Piattwas born in Indiana, March 1, 1835. His earliest schooling was received at Rising Sun, in Indiana. At the age of fourteen he was set to learn the printing business in the office of theOhio State Journalat Columbus, Ohio, for a brief period, and at the age of eighteen years first began to write verses. His poems were chiefly on themes connected with his native West.SONNET IN 1862Sternbe the Pilot in the dreadful hourWhen a great nation, like a ship at seaWith the wroth breakers whitening at her lee,Feels her last shudder if her helmsman cower;A godlike manhood be his mighty dower!Such and so gifted, Lincoln, may'st thou beWith thy high wisdom's low simplicityAnd awful tenderness of voted power.From our hot records then thy name shall standOn Time's calm ledger out of passionatedays—With the pure debt of gratitude begun,And only paid in never-endingpraise—One of the many of a mighty land,Made by God's providence the Anointed One.topPhoto is signed: For Mrs. Lucy G. Speed, from whose pious hand I accepted the present of an Oxford Bible twenty years ago. Washington, D. C. October 3, 1861 A. Lincoln.PRESIDENT LINCOLNLincolnonce said: "When any church will inscribe over its altar, as its sole qualification for membership, the Saviour's condensed statement of the substance of both law and gospel, 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself', that church will I join with all my heart and all my soul."topLINCOLN, SOLDIER OF CHRISTFrom Macmillan's Magazine, EnglandLincoln! When men would name a manJust, unperturbed, magnanimous,Tried in the lowest seat of all,Tried in the chief seat of thehouse—Lincoln! When men would name a manWho wrought the great work of his age,Who fought, and fought the noblest fight,And marshalled it from stage to stage.Victorious, out of dusk and dark,And into dawn and on till day,Most humble when the pæans rang,Least rigid when the enemy layProstrated for his feet totread—This name of Lincoln will they name,A name revered, a name of scorn,Of scorn to sundry, not to fame.Lincoln; the man who freed the slave;Lincoln, whom never self enticed;Slain Lincoln, worthy found to dieA soldier of the captain Christ.topLINCOLN IN 1860Photographed by Brady at the time of the "Cooper Institute Speech," February, 1860topRev. Hamilton Schuylerwas born in Oswego, New York, 1862, and is a son of the late Anthony Schuyler, who was for many years rector of Grace Church, Orange, New Jersey. He belongs to the well-known family of that name, being seventh in descent from Philip Peterse Schuyler, founder of the family, who came to this country from Holland and settled in Albany in 1650. He studied at Oxford University, England, and the General Theological Seminary of New York. Has held positions in Calvary Church, New York; Trinity Church, Newport, Rhode Island, and was for several years dean of the Cathedral at Davenport, Iowa, under the late Bishop Perry. He began his rectorship at Trenton in February, 1900. Has written extensively for journals and periodicals. Among the bound publications which bear his name as author areA Fisher of Men,a biography of the late Churchill Satterlee, priest and missionary, son of the first Bishop of Washington;Studies in English Church History;The Intellectual Crisis Confronting Christianity;andA History of Trinity Church, Trenton.In 1900 his poem,The Incapable,won a prize of two hundred dollars offered by the late Collis P. Huntington through theNew York Sun,for the best poems antithetical to Edwin Markham'sMan With the Hoe.A volume of Mr. Schuyler's verses, under the titleWithin the Cloister's Shadow,was published in 1914.A CHARACTERIZATION OF LINCOLNFrom Lincoln Centenary OdeTall, ungainly, gaunt of limb,Rudely Nature molded him.Awkward form and homely face,Owing naught to outward grace;Yet, behind the rugged mienWere a mind and soul serene,topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Gardner, WashingtontopAnd in deep-set eyes there shoneGenius that was all his own.Humor quaint with pathos blentTo his speech attraction lent;Telling phrase and homely quipFalling lightly from his lip.Eloquent of tongue, and clear,Logical, devoid of fear,Making plain whate'er was denseBy the light of common sense.Tender as the bravest be,Pitiful in high degree,Wrathful only where offenceLed to grievous consequence;Hating sham and empty show;Chivalrous to beaten foe;Ever patient in his ways;Cheerful in the darkest days;Not a demi-god or saintSuch as fancy loves to paint,But a truly human manBuilt on the heroic plan.topEMANCIPATION GROUPMoses Kimball, a citizen of Boston, presented to the city a duplicate of the Freedman's Memorial Statue erected in Lincoln Park, Washington, D. C., after a design by Thomas Ball. The group, which stands in Park Square, represents the figure of a slave from whose limbs the broken fetters have fallen, kneeling in gratitude at the feet of Lincoln. The verses which follow were written for the unveiling of the statue, December 9, 1879.topJohn Greenleaf Whittier, born December 17, 1807, in Haverhill, Massachusetts. He lived on a farm until he reached the age of eighteen, working a little at shoemaking and also writing poetry for theHaverhill Gazette.Later he became editor of a number of papers, and his poems in after life were full of patriotism and the love of human freedom, all of which attained a strong hold on the hearts of the people. He would have prevented war, if possible, with honor, but when war came he wrote in support of the Union cause, displaying no bitterness, and when the conflict was over he was most liberal and conciliatory. He was one of the most popular of poets. He died September 7, 1892.THE EMANCIPATION GROUPAmidstthy sacred effigiesOf old renown give place,O city. Freedom-loved! to hisWhose hand unchained a race.Take the worn frame, that rested notSave in a martyr's grave;The care-lined face, that none forgot,Bent to the kneeling slave.Let man be free! The mighty wordHe spoke was not his own;An impulse from the Highest stirredThese chiseled lips alone.The cloudy sign, the fiery guide,Along his pathway ran,And Nature, through his voice, deniedThe ownership of man.topWe rest in peace where these sad eyesSaw peril, strife, and pain;His was the Nation's sacrifice,And ours the priceless gain.O symbol of God's will on earthAs it is done aboveBear witness to the cost and worthOf justice and of love!Stand in thy place and testifyTo coming ages long,That truth is stronger than a lie,And righteousness than wrong.topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1863topTheron Brown, born at Willimantic, Connecticut, April 29, 1832. Graduated at Hartford Theological Seminary in 1858; Newton Theological Institution, 1859. Ordained in Baptist Ministry, 1859; Pastor South Framingham, Massachusetts, 1859-62; Canton, Massachusetts, 1863-70; on staffYouth's Companionsince 1870. Author various juvenile stories;Life Songs(poems), 1894;Nameless Women of the Bible,1904;The Story of the Hymns and Tunes,1907;Under the Mulberry Tree(a novel), 1909;The Birds of God,1911. He died February 14, 1914.THE LIBERATORWhen, scornful of a nation's rest,The angry horns of Discord blewThere came a giant from the West,And found a giant's work to do.He saw, in sorrow—and inwrath—A mighty empire in its strait,Torn like a planet in its pathTo warring hemisphere of hate.Between the thunder-clouds he stood;He harked to Ruin's battle-drum,And cried in patriot hardihood,"Why do I wait? My hour has come!"Was it my fate, my lot, my woeTo be the Ruler of the land,Nor own my oath that long agoI swore upon this heart and hand?"That vow, like barb from bowman's string,Shall pierce sedition's secret plea:topGod grant the bloodless blow shall stingTill brother's quarrels cease to be!"Should once the sudden wound provokeNew strife in anger's zoneThe clash may be the penal strokeThat makes a new Republic one."He wrote his Message—clear as light,And bolder than a king'scommand—And when war's whirlwinds spent their mightThere was no bondman in the land.PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., January 24, 1863topTO PRESIDENT LINCOLNJanuary 1, 1863Lincoln, that with thy steadfast truth the sandOf men and time and circumstance dost sway!The slave-cloud dwindles on this golden day,And over all the pestilent southern land,Breathless, the dark expectant millions stand,To watch the northern sun rise on its way,Cleaving the stormy distance—every raySword-bright, sword-sharp, in God's invisible hand.Better with this great end, partial defeat,And jibings of the ignorant worldly-wise,Than laud and triumph won with shameful blows.The dead Past lies in its dead winding-sheet;The living Present droops with tearful eyes;But far beyond the awaiting Future glows.Edmund Ollier, in London (Eng.) Morning Star.topPRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.topCharles G. Foltzwas born at West Winfield, Herkimer County, New York, September 9, 1837. His parents were Benjamin Foltz, a Presbyterian clergyman, and Jane Harwood Foltz. In 1846 the family moved to Cuyahoga County, Ohio. In 1849 to Wisconsin, first to Rock County, then to Walworth County, and in 1854 to Burlington, Racine County, where he has since resided.ON FREEDOM'S SUMMITOnfreedom's summit, Oh, how grandStood Lincoln ruler of our land,As he issued the sublime commandLet the enslaved be free.Ere long he saw the Bondmen rise;Ere long as Freedmen seize the prize,The precious boon of liberty.A backward glance he castInto the valley of the past,Amid the shade and gloomDiscerning slavery's tomb.Out from the depths his upturned eyesBeheld the fleeing clouds the brighter skies.Upon him shone a glory like the sun,Reflecting "peace toward all, malice toward none."As thus he filled his high exalted place,The brave emancipator of a race,He thought of the fierce struggle and the victoryAnd humbly deemed himself to beOnly the instrument of a Divine decree.Rejoicing in the faith of brighter coming daysHis "fervent prayers" were merged in those of praise.topLike unto psalmists of the olden timeHis uttered thoughts inspired the nation's song,Throughout the land the chorus rose sublime,The exultant triumph of the right o'er wrong."Behold, what God the Lord hath wrought,"More than we asked, or hoped, or thought.Through the "Red sea" of blood and carnageHe brought our nation free of bondage.With Moses sing, yea shout O North;With Miriam answer back O South:That "He hath triumphed gloriously.".....Oh why the sudden blotting out of light?The cloud of sorrow, dark as Plutonian night,That cast its lengthening shadow o'er the land;Changing to funeral dirge the choral grand.Swift as the typhoon'sbreath—The harbinger ofdeath—The cruel deed of hateSwept the grand chief away.Unto this day, and ever aye,The nation mourns her martyr's fate.topADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATIONOF THE CEMETERY AT GETTYSBURGFourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicatetopa portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us,—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave their last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.November 19, 1863.ABRAHAM LINCOLN."Undoubtedly there were many in the audience who fully appreciated the beauty of the President's address, and many of those who read it on the following day perceived its wondrous character; but it is apparent that its full force and grandeur were not generally recognized then, either by its auditors or its readers. Not until the war had ended and the great leader had fallen did the nation realize that this speech had given to Gettysburg another claim to immortality and to American eloquence its highest glory."—From the monograph on the Gettysburg Address, by Maj. William H. Lambert.topBayard Taylor, born in Kennett Square, Chester County, Pennsylvania, on the 11th of January, 1825. Died in Berlin, Germany, on the 19th of December, 1878. His boyhood was passed on a farm near Kennett. He learned to read at four, began to write at an early age, and from his twelfth year wrote poems, novels and historical essays, but mostly poems. In 1837 the family moved to Westchester, and there and at Unionville he had five years of high-school training. His first poem printed was contributed to theSaturday Evening Post,in 1841, and those to theNew York Tribunefrom abroad, written in 1844, were widely read and shortly after his return were collected and published inViews Afoot, or Europe Seen With Knapsack and Staff.With a friend he bought a printing office in 1846, and began to publish thePhoenixville Pioneer,but it was as a poet that he excelled above most other vocations.GETTYSBURG ODEAfterthe eyes that looked, the lips that spakeHere, from the shadows of impending death,Those words of solemn breath,What voice may fitly breakThe silence, doubly hallowed, left by him?We can but bow the head, with eyes grown dim,And, as a Nation's litany, repeatThe phrase his martyrdom hath made complete,Noble as then, but now more sadly sweet:"Let us, the Living, rather dedicateOurselves to the unfinished work, which theyThus far advanced so nobly on its way,And saved the periled State!Let us, upon this field where they, the brave,Their last full measure of devotion gave,Highly resolve they have not died invain!—That, under God, the Nation's later birthtopOf freedom, and the people's gainOf their own Sovereignty, shall never waneAnd perish from the circle of the earth!"From such a perfect text, shall Song aspireTo light her faded fire,And into wandering music turnIts virtue, simple, sorrowful, and stern?His voice all elegies anticipated;For, whatsoe'er the strain,We hear that one refrain:"We consecrate ourselves to them, the Consecrated!"PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SON THOMAS ("TAD")topBenjamin Franklin Taylor, born at Lowville, New York, July 19, 1819. He was for several years connected with theChicago Evening Journal.He wrotePictures of Life in Camp and Field(1871);The World on Wheels,etc. (1874);Songs of Yesterday(1877);Between the Gates(1878);Summer Savory,etc. (1879);Dulce Domum(1884);Theophilus Trent,a novel (1887); etc. Among his best known poems are:Isle of the Long Ago,Rhymes of the River,andThe Old Village Choir.LINCOLN'S SECOND INAUGURAL
THE CAPITOLThe Second Inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States, in front of the Capitol, Washington, March 4, 1865
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Edwin Markham, born at Oregon City, Oregon, April 23, 1852; settled in California in 1857, and worked there during his boyhood, principally as a blacksmith. Worked his way through the San Jose Normal School and Santa Rosa College. Became a writer of stories and verse for papers and magazines, and principal and superintendent of California schools. Was the author ofThe Man With the Hoe, and Other Poems(1899);The Man With the Hoe, with Notes by the Author(1900);The End of the Century(1899);Lincoln, the Great Commoner(1900);The Mighty Hundred Years; Lincoln and Other Poems(1901);The Shoes of Happiness(1915). HisMan With the Hoewas extensively republished and gave him wide fame.
Whenthe Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour,Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,She bent the strenuous Heavens and came downTo make a man to meet the mortal need.She took the tried clay of the commonroad—Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy;Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff.It was a stuff to wear for centuries,A man that matched the mountains, and compelledThe stars to look our way and honor us.
Whenthe Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour,
Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,
She bent the strenuous Heavens and came down
To make a man to meet the mortal need.
She took the tried clay of the commonroad—
Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,
Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy;
Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff.
It was a stuff to wear for centuries,
A man that matched the mountains, and compelled
The stars to look our way and honor us.
The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;The tang and odor of the primalthings—The rectitude and patience of the rocks;The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;The courage of the bird that dares the sea;The justice of the rain that loves all leaves;The pity of snow that hides all scars;The loving-kindness of the wayside well;topThe tolerance and equity of lightThat gives as freely to the shrinking weedAs to the great oak flaring to thewind—To the grave's low hill as to the MatterhornThat shoulders out the sky.
The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;
The tang and odor of the primalthings—
The rectitude and patience of the rocks;
The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;
The courage of the bird that dares the sea;
The justice of the rain that loves all leaves;
The pity of snow that hides all scars;
The loving-kindness of the wayside well;top
The tolerance and equity of light
That gives as freely to the shrinking weed
As to the great oak flaring to thewind—
To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn
That shoulders out the sky.
And so he came.From prairie cabin up to Capitol,One fair ideal led our chieftain on.Forevermore he burned to do his deedWith the fine stroke and gesture of a king.He built the rail pile as he built the State,Pouring his splendid strength through every blow,The conscience of him testing every stroke,To make his deed the measure of a man.
And so he came.
From prairie cabin up to Capitol,
One fair ideal led our chieftain on.
Forevermore he burned to do his deed
With the fine stroke and gesture of a king.
He built the rail pile as he built the State,
Pouring his splendid strength through every blow,
The conscience of him testing every stroke,
To make his deed the measure of a man.
So came the Captain with the mighty heart;And when the step of earthquake shook the house,Wresting the rafters from their ancient hold,He held the ridge-pole up and spiked againThe rafters of the Home. He held hisplace—Held the long purpose like a growingtree—Held on through blame and faltered not at praise,And when he fell, in whirlwind, he went downAs when a kingly cedar, green with boughs,Goes down with a great shout upon the hills,And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
So came the Captain with the mighty heart;
And when the step of earthquake shook the house,
Wresting the rafters from their ancient hold,
He held the ridge-pole up and spiked again
The rafters of the Home. He held hisplace—
Held the long purpose like a growingtree—
Held on through blame and faltered not at praise,
And when he fell, in whirlwind, he went down
As when a kingly cedar, green with boughs,
Goes down with a great shout upon the hills,
And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
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THE WHITE HOUSE
Thecorner-stone was laid by George Washington on the 13th of October, 1792. The mansion was first occupied by President John Adams in the year 1800, also by every succeeding President. British troops burned it in 1814, in President Madison's term. It was the first public building erected in Washington. It is constructed of Virginia freestone, and is 170 feet in length, 80 feet in depth, and consists of a rustic basement, two stories and an attic.
John Vance Cheney, born Groveland, New York, December 29, 1848. Graduated Temple Hill Academy, Genesee, New York, at seventeen. Assistant principal there two years later. Practiced law, New York, 1875-6; librarian Free Public Library, San Francisco, 1887-94; Newberry Library, Chicago, 1894-1909; author,The Old Doctor,1881; and a number of poems, 1887-1911.
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Thehour was on us; where the man?The fateful sands unfaltering ran,And up the way of tearsHe came into the years.
Thehour was on us; where the man?
The fateful sands unfaltering ran,
And up the way of tears
He came into the years.
Our pastoral captain. Forth he came,As one that answers to his name;Nor dreamed how high his charge,His work how fair and large,
Our pastoral captain. Forth he came,
As one that answers to his name;
Nor dreamed how high his charge,
His work how fair and large,
To set the stones back in the wallLest the divided house should fall,And peace from men depart,Hope and the childlike heart.
To set the stones back in the wall
Lest the divided house should fall,
And peace from men depart,
Hope and the childlike heart.
We looked on him; "'Tis he," we said,"Come crownless and unheralded,The shepherd who will keepThe flocks, will fold the sheep."
We looked on him; "'Tis he," we said,
"Come crownless and unheralded,
The shepherd who will keep
The flocks, will fold the sheep."
Unknightly, yes: yet 'twas the mienPresaging the immortal scene,Some battles of His warsWho sealeth up the stars.top
Unknightly, yes: yet 'twas the mien
Presaging the immortal scene,
Some battles of His wars
Who sealeth up the stars.
Not he would take the past betweenHis hands, wipe valor's tablets clean,Commanding greatness waitTill he stands at the gate;
Not he would take the past between
His hands, wipe valor's tablets clean,
Commanding greatness wait
Till he stands at the gate;
Not he would cramp to one small headThe awful laurels of the dead,Time's mighty vintage cup,And drink all honor up.
Not he would cramp to one small head
The awful laurels of the dead,
Time's mighty vintage cup,
And drink all honor up.
No flutter of the banners boldBorne by the lusty sons of old,The haughty conquerorsSet forward to their wars;
No flutter of the banners bold
Borne by the lusty sons of old,
The haughty conquerors
Set forward to their wars;
Not his their blare, their pageantries,Their goal, their glory, was not his;Humbly he came to keepThe flocks, to fold the sheep.
Not his their blare, their pageantries,
Their goal, their glory, was not his;
Humbly he came to keep
The flocks, to fold the sheep.
The need comes not without the man;The prescient hours unceasing ran,And up the way of tearsHe came into the years.
The need comes not without the man;
The prescient hours unceasing ran,
And up the way of tears
He came into the years.
Our pastoral captain, skilled to crookThe spear into the pruning hook,The simple, kindly man,Lincoln, American.
Our pastoral captain, skilled to crook
The spear into the pruning hook,
The simple, kindly man,
Lincoln, American.
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WHERE LINCOLN WORSHIPPEDNew York Avenue Presbyterian Church, Washington, D. C.
President Lincolnand family attended this church during his Administration. The pew that they occupied is still preserved in its black walnut trimmings, though the rest of the sanctuary has been refurnished.
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Lyman Whitney Allen, born at St. Louis, November 19, 1854. Bachelor of Arts, Washington University, St. Louis, 1878; later Master of Arts, Princeton Theological, 1878-80; Post-graduate studies at Princeton University; (D.D., University of Wooster, 1897). Ordained Presbyterian Minister, 1882; stated supply Kimmswick, Missouri, 1881-3; DeSoto, Missouri, 1883-5; Pastor-elect Carondelet Church, St. Louis, Missouri, 1885-9; Pastor South Park Church, Newark, New Jersey, since 1889. Director Board of Home Missions, Presbyterian; Chaplain New Jersey Society D. A. R.; Member Society American Authors; New Jersey Society S. A. R. Club, Princeton (New York). Has written many poems and articles, including the New YorkHerald's$1,000 prize poem which was published in 1895.
Rev. Dr. Lyman Whitney Allen of Newark, New Jersey, had for his guest Chief Justice Wendell Phillips Stafford of the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia. Judge Stafford addressed the Men's Club of Dr. Allen's church one evening, and next day, in company with his host, visited the Lincoln statue on the court-house plaza. On the train that bore him back to Washington that day, Judge Stafford wrote the poem on the Statue. (Seepage 236).
A few weeks thereafter Dr. Allen visited his friend, the judge, in Washington, and they made a little pilgrimage to the New York Avenue Presbyterian church. In the Lincoln pew Dr. Allen sat and meditated, and on his way back he wrote the verses.
"I had seen the Lincoln statue many times," says Dr. Allen, "but, somehow, I could not get started on the poem I knew could be written around it." And Judge Stafford wrote to his friend in Newark: "I had seen the Lincoln pew a score of times without poetic result, yet you come on a one-day visit and carry away the inspiration needed."
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Withinthe historic church both eye and soulPerceived it. 'Twas the pew where Lincolnsat—The only Lincoln God hath given tomen—Olden among the modern seats of prayer,Dark like the 'sixties, place and past akin.All else has changed, but this remains the same,A sanctuary in a sanctuary.
Withinthe historic church both eye and soul
Perceived it. 'Twas the pew where Lincolnsat—
The only Lincoln God hath given tomen—
Olden among the modern seats of prayer,
Dark like the 'sixties, place and past akin.
All else has changed, but this remains the same,
A sanctuary in a sanctuary.
Where Lincoln prayed! What passion had hissoul—Mixt faith and anguish melting into prayerUpon the burning altar of God's fane,A nation's altar even as his own.
Where Lincoln prayed! What passion had hissoul—
Mixt faith and anguish melting into prayer
Upon the burning altar of God's fane,
A nation's altar even as his own.
Where Lincoln prayed! Such worshipers as heMake thin ranks down the ages. Wouldst thou knowHis spirit suppliant? Then must thou feelWar's fiery baptism, taste hate's bitter cup,Spend similar sweat of blood vicarious,And sound the cry, "If it be possible!"From stricken heart in new Gethsemane.
Where Lincoln prayed! Such worshipers as he
Make thin ranks down the ages. Wouldst thou know
His spirit suppliant? Then must thou feel
War's fiery baptism, taste hate's bitter cup,
Spend similar sweat of blood vicarious,
And sound the cry, "If it be possible!"
From stricken heart in new Gethsemane.
Who saw him there are gone, as he is gone;The pew remains, with what God gave him there,And all the world through him. So let itbe—One of the people's shrines.
Who saw him there are gone, as he is gone;
The pew remains, with what God gave him there,
And all the world through him. So let itbe—
One of the people's shrines.
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LINCOLN IN 1858From a photograph in possession of Mr. Stuart Brown of Springfield, Illinois
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John James Piattwas born in Indiana, March 1, 1835. His earliest schooling was received at Rising Sun, in Indiana. At the age of fourteen he was set to learn the printing business in the office of theOhio State Journalat Columbus, Ohio, for a brief period, and at the age of eighteen years first began to write verses. His poems were chiefly on themes connected with his native West.
Sternbe the Pilot in the dreadful hourWhen a great nation, like a ship at seaWith the wroth breakers whitening at her lee,Feels her last shudder if her helmsman cower;A godlike manhood be his mighty dower!Such and so gifted, Lincoln, may'st thou beWith thy high wisdom's low simplicityAnd awful tenderness of voted power.From our hot records then thy name shall standOn Time's calm ledger out of passionatedays—With the pure debt of gratitude begun,And only paid in never-endingpraise—One of the many of a mighty land,Made by God's providence the Anointed One.
Sternbe the Pilot in the dreadful hour
When a great nation, like a ship at sea
With the wroth breakers whitening at her lee,
Feels her last shudder if her helmsman cower;
A godlike manhood be his mighty dower!
Such and so gifted, Lincoln, may'st thou be
With thy high wisdom's low simplicity
And awful tenderness of voted power.
From our hot records then thy name shall stand
On Time's calm ledger out of passionatedays—
With the pure debt of gratitude begun,
And only paid in never-endingpraise—
One of the many of a mighty land,
Made by God's providence the Anointed One.
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Photo is signed: For Mrs. Lucy G. Speed, from whose pious hand I accepted the present of an Oxford Bible twenty years ago. Washington, D. C. October 3, 1861 A. Lincoln.
PRESIDENT LINCOLN
Lincolnonce said: "When any church will inscribe over its altar, as its sole qualification for membership, the Saviour's condensed statement of the substance of both law and gospel, 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself', that church will I join with all my heart and all my soul."
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From Macmillan's Magazine, England
Lincoln! When men would name a manJust, unperturbed, magnanimous,Tried in the lowest seat of all,Tried in the chief seat of thehouse—
Lincoln! When men would name a man
Just, unperturbed, magnanimous,
Tried in the lowest seat of all,
Tried in the chief seat of thehouse—
Lincoln! When men would name a manWho wrought the great work of his age,Who fought, and fought the noblest fight,And marshalled it from stage to stage.
Lincoln! When men would name a man
Who wrought the great work of his age,
Who fought, and fought the noblest fight,
And marshalled it from stage to stage.
Victorious, out of dusk and dark,And into dawn and on till day,Most humble when the pæans rang,Least rigid when the enemy lay
Victorious, out of dusk and dark,
And into dawn and on till day,
Most humble when the pæans rang,
Least rigid when the enemy lay
Prostrated for his feet totread—This name of Lincoln will they name,A name revered, a name of scorn,Of scorn to sundry, not to fame.
Prostrated for his feet totread—
This name of Lincoln will they name,
A name revered, a name of scorn,
Of scorn to sundry, not to fame.
Lincoln; the man who freed the slave;Lincoln, whom never self enticed;Slain Lincoln, worthy found to dieA soldier of the captain Christ.
Lincoln; the man who freed the slave;
Lincoln, whom never self enticed;
Slain Lincoln, worthy found to die
A soldier of the captain Christ.
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LINCOLN IN 1860Photographed by Brady at the time of the "Cooper Institute Speech," February, 1860
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Rev. Hamilton Schuylerwas born in Oswego, New York, 1862, and is a son of the late Anthony Schuyler, who was for many years rector of Grace Church, Orange, New Jersey. He belongs to the well-known family of that name, being seventh in descent from Philip Peterse Schuyler, founder of the family, who came to this country from Holland and settled in Albany in 1650. He studied at Oxford University, England, and the General Theological Seminary of New York. Has held positions in Calvary Church, New York; Trinity Church, Newport, Rhode Island, and was for several years dean of the Cathedral at Davenport, Iowa, under the late Bishop Perry. He began his rectorship at Trenton in February, 1900. Has written extensively for journals and periodicals. Among the bound publications which bear his name as author areA Fisher of Men,a biography of the late Churchill Satterlee, priest and missionary, son of the first Bishop of Washington;Studies in English Church History;The Intellectual Crisis Confronting Christianity;andA History of Trinity Church, Trenton.In 1900 his poem,The Incapable,won a prize of two hundred dollars offered by the late Collis P. Huntington through theNew York Sun,for the best poems antithetical to Edwin Markham'sMan With the Hoe.A volume of Mr. Schuyler's verses, under the titleWithin the Cloister's Shadow,was published in 1914.
From Lincoln Centenary Ode
Tall, ungainly, gaunt of limb,Rudely Nature molded him.Awkward form and homely face,Owing naught to outward grace;Yet, behind the rugged mienWere a mind and soul serene,
Tall, ungainly, gaunt of limb,
Rudely Nature molded him.
Awkward form and homely face,
Owing naught to outward grace;
Yet, behind the rugged mien
Were a mind and soul serene,
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PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Gardner, Washington
topAnd in deep-set eyes there shoneGenius that was all his own.Humor quaint with pathos blentTo his speech attraction lent;Telling phrase and homely quipFalling lightly from his lip.Eloquent of tongue, and clear,Logical, devoid of fear,Making plain whate'er was denseBy the light of common sense.Tender as the bravest be,Pitiful in high degree,Wrathful only where offenceLed to grievous consequence;Hating sham and empty show;Chivalrous to beaten foe;Ever patient in his ways;Cheerful in the darkest days;Not a demi-god or saintSuch as fancy loves to paint,But a truly human manBuilt on the heroic plan.
And in deep-set eyes there shone
Genius that was all his own.
Humor quaint with pathos blent
To his speech attraction lent;
Telling phrase and homely quip
Falling lightly from his lip.
Eloquent of tongue, and clear,
Logical, devoid of fear,
Making plain whate'er was dense
By the light of common sense.
Tender as the bravest be,
Pitiful in high degree,
Wrathful only where offence
Led to grievous consequence;
Hating sham and empty show;
Chivalrous to beaten foe;
Ever patient in his ways;
Cheerful in the darkest days;
Not a demi-god or saint
Such as fancy loves to paint,
But a truly human man
Built on the heroic plan.
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EMANCIPATION GROUP
Moses Kimball, a citizen of Boston, presented to the city a duplicate of the Freedman's Memorial Statue erected in Lincoln Park, Washington, D. C., after a design by Thomas Ball. The group, which stands in Park Square, represents the figure of a slave from whose limbs the broken fetters have fallen, kneeling in gratitude at the feet of Lincoln. The verses which follow were written for the unveiling of the statue, December 9, 1879.
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John Greenleaf Whittier, born December 17, 1807, in Haverhill, Massachusetts. He lived on a farm until he reached the age of eighteen, working a little at shoemaking and also writing poetry for theHaverhill Gazette.Later he became editor of a number of papers, and his poems in after life were full of patriotism and the love of human freedom, all of which attained a strong hold on the hearts of the people. He would have prevented war, if possible, with honor, but when war came he wrote in support of the Union cause, displaying no bitterness, and when the conflict was over he was most liberal and conciliatory. He was one of the most popular of poets. He died September 7, 1892.
Amidstthy sacred effigiesOf old renown give place,O city. Freedom-loved! to hisWhose hand unchained a race.
Amidstthy sacred effigies
Of old renown give place,
O city. Freedom-loved! to his
Whose hand unchained a race.
Take the worn frame, that rested notSave in a martyr's grave;The care-lined face, that none forgot,Bent to the kneeling slave.
Take the worn frame, that rested not
Save in a martyr's grave;
The care-lined face, that none forgot,
Bent to the kneeling slave.
Let man be free! The mighty wordHe spoke was not his own;An impulse from the Highest stirredThese chiseled lips alone.
Let man be free! The mighty word
He spoke was not his own;
An impulse from the Highest stirred
These chiseled lips alone.
The cloudy sign, the fiery guide,Along his pathway ran,And Nature, through his voice, deniedThe ownership of man.top
The cloudy sign, the fiery guide,
Along his pathway ran,
And Nature, through his voice, denied
The ownership of man.
We rest in peace where these sad eyesSaw peril, strife, and pain;His was the Nation's sacrifice,And ours the priceless gain.
We rest in peace where these sad eyes
Saw peril, strife, and pain;
His was the Nation's sacrifice,
And ours the priceless gain.
O symbol of God's will on earthAs it is done aboveBear witness to the cost and worthOf justice and of love!
O symbol of God's will on earth
As it is done above
Bear witness to the cost and worth
Of justice and of love!
Stand in thy place and testifyTo coming ages long,That truth is stronger than a lie,And righteousness than wrong.
Stand in thy place and testify
To coming ages long,
That truth is stronger than a lie,
And righteousness than wrong.
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PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1863
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Theron Brown, born at Willimantic, Connecticut, April 29, 1832. Graduated at Hartford Theological Seminary in 1858; Newton Theological Institution, 1859. Ordained in Baptist Ministry, 1859; Pastor South Framingham, Massachusetts, 1859-62; Canton, Massachusetts, 1863-70; on staffYouth's Companionsince 1870. Author various juvenile stories;Life Songs(poems), 1894;Nameless Women of the Bible,1904;The Story of the Hymns and Tunes,1907;Under the Mulberry Tree(a novel), 1909;The Birds of God,1911. He died February 14, 1914.
When, scornful of a nation's rest,The angry horns of Discord blewThere came a giant from the West,And found a giant's work to do.
When, scornful of a nation's rest,
The angry horns of Discord blew
There came a giant from the West,
And found a giant's work to do.
He saw, in sorrow—and inwrath—A mighty empire in its strait,Torn like a planet in its pathTo warring hemisphere of hate.
He saw, in sorrow—and inwrath—
A mighty empire in its strait,
Torn like a planet in its path
To warring hemisphere of hate.
Between the thunder-clouds he stood;He harked to Ruin's battle-drum,And cried in patriot hardihood,"Why do I wait? My hour has come!
Between the thunder-clouds he stood;
He harked to Ruin's battle-drum,
And cried in patriot hardihood,
"Why do I wait? My hour has come!
"Was it my fate, my lot, my woeTo be the Ruler of the land,Nor own my oath that long agoI swore upon this heart and hand?
"Was it my fate, my lot, my woe
To be the Ruler of the land,
Nor own my oath that long ago
I swore upon this heart and hand?
"That vow, like barb from bowman's string,Shall pierce sedition's secret plea:topGod grant the bloodless blow shall stingTill brother's quarrels cease to be!
"That vow, like barb from bowman's string,
Shall pierce sedition's secret plea:
God grant the bloodless blow shall sting
Till brother's quarrels cease to be!
"Should once the sudden wound provokeNew strife in anger's zoneThe clash may be the penal strokeThat makes a new Republic one."
"Should once the sudden wound provoke
New strife in anger's zone
The clash may be the penal stroke
That makes a new Republic one."
He wrote his Message—clear as light,And bolder than a king'scommand—And when war's whirlwinds spent their mightThere was no bondman in the land.
He wrote his Message—clear as light,
And bolder than a king'scommand—
And when war's whirlwinds spent their might
There was no bondman in the land.
PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., January 24, 1863
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January 1, 1863
Lincoln, that with thy steadfast truth the sandOf men and time and circumstance dost sway!The slave-cloud dwindles on this golden day,And over all the pestilent southern land,Breathless, the dark expectant millions stand,To watch the northern sun rise on its way,Cleaving the stormy distance—every raySword-bright, sword-sharp, in God's invisible hand.
Lincoln, that with thy steadfast truth the sand
Of men and time and circumstance dost sway!
The slave-cloud dwindles on this golden day,
And over all the pestilent southern land,
Breathless, the dark expectant millions stand,
To watch the northern sun rise on its way,
Cleaving the stormy distance—every ray
Sword-bright, sword-sharp, in God's invisible hand.
Better with this great end, partial defeat,And jibings of the ignorant worldly-wise,Than laud and triumph won with shameful blows.The dead Past lies in its dead winding-sheet;The living Present droops with tearful eyes;But far beyond the awaiting Future glows.
Better with this great end, partial defeat,
And jibings of the ignorant worldly-wise,
Than laud and triumph won with shameful blows.
The dead Past lies in its dead winding-sheet;
The living Present droops with tearful eyes;
But far beyond the awaiting Future glows.
Edmund Ollier, in London (Eng.) Morning Star.
Edmund Ollier, in London (Eng.) Morning Star.
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PRESIDENT LINCOLNPhotograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.
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Charles G. Foltzwas born at West Winfield, Herkimer County, New York, September 9, 1837. His parents were Benjamin Foltz, a Presbyterian clergyman, and Jane Harwood Foltz. In 1846 the family moved to Cuyahoga County, Ohio. In 1849 to Wisconsin, first to Rock County, then to Walworth County, and in 1854 to Burlington, Racine County, where he has since resided.
Onfreedom's summit, Oh, how grandStood Lincoln ruler of our land,As he issued the sublime commandLet the enslaved be free.Ere long he saw the Bondmen rise;Ere long as Freedmen seize the prize,The precious boon of liberty.
Onfreedom's summit, Oh, how grand
Stood Lincoln ruler of our land,
As he issued the sublime command
Let the enslaved be free.
Ere long he saw the Bondmen rise;
Ere long as Freedmen seize the prize,
The precious boon of liberty.
A backward glance he castInto the valley of the past,Amid the shade and gloomDiscerning slavery's tomb.Out from the depths his upturned eyesBeheld the fleeing clouds the brighter skies.Upon him shone a glory like the sun,Reflecting "peace toward all, malice toward none."
A backward glance he cast
Into the valley of the past,
Amid the shade and gloom
Discerning slavery's tomb.
Out from the depths his upturned eyes
Beheld the fleeing clouds the brighter skies.
Upon him shone a glory like the sun,
Reflecting "peace toward all, malice toward none."
As thus he filled his high exalted place,The brave emancipator of a race,He thought of the fierce struggle and the victoryAnd humbly deemed himself to beOnly the instrument of a Divine decree.Rejoicing in the faith of brighter coming daysHis "fervent prayers" were merged in those of praise.top
As thus he filled his high exalted place,
The brave emancipator of a race,
He thought of the fierce struggle and the victory
And humbly deemed himself to be
Only the instrument of a Divine decree.
Rejoicing in the faith of brighter coming days
His "fervent prayers" were merged in those of praise.
Like unto psalmists of the olden timeHis uttered thoughts inspired the nation's song,Throughout the land the chorus rose sublime,The exultant triumph of the right o'er wrong.
Like unto psalmists of the olden time
His uttered thoughts inspired the nation's song,
Throughout the land the chorus rose sublime,
The exultant triumph of the right o'er wrong.
"Behold, what God the Lord hath wrought,"More than we asked, or hoped, or thought.Through the "Red sea" of blood and carnageHe brought our nation free of bondage.With Moses sing, yea shout O North;With Miriam answer back O South:That "He hath triumphed gloriously."
"Behold, what God the Lord hath wrought,"
More than we asked, or hoped, or thought.
Through the "Red sea" of blood and carnage
He brought our nation free of bondage.
With Moses sing, yea shout O North;
With Miriam answer back O South:
That "He hath triumphed gloriously."
.....
Oh why the sudden blotting out of light?The cloud of sorrow, dark as Plutonian night,That cast its lengthening shadow o'er the land;Changing to funeral dirge the choral grand.Swift as the typhoon'sbreath—The harbinger ofdeath—The cruel deed of hateSwept the grand chief away.Unto this day, and ever aye,The nation mourns her martyr's fate.
Oh why the sudden blotting out of light?
The cloud of sorrow, dark as Plutonian night,
That cast its lengthening shadow o'er the land;
Changing to funeral dirge the choral grand.
Swift as the typhoon'sbreath—
The harbinger ofdeath—
The cruel deed of hate
Swept the grand chief away.
Unto this day, and ever aye,
The nation mourns her martyr's fate.
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Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicatetopa portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us,—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave their last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
November 19, 1863.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
"Undoubtedly there were many in the audience who fully appreciated the beauty of the President's address, and many of those who read it on the following day perceived its wondrous character; but it is apparent that its full force and grandeur were not generally recognized then, either by its auditors or its readers. Not until the war had ended and the great leader had fallen did the nation realize that this speech had given to Gettysburg another claim to immortality and to American eloquence its highest glory."—From the monograph on the Gettysburg Address, by Maj. William H. Lambert.
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Bayard Taylor, born in Kennett Square, Chester County, Pennsylvania, on the 11th of January, 1825. Died in Berlin, Germany, on the 19th of December, 1878. His boyhood was passed on a farm near Kennett. He learned to read at four, began to write at an early age, and from his twelfth year wrote poems, novels and historical essays, but mostly poems. In 1837 the family moved to Westchester, and there and at Unionville he had five years of high-school training. His first poem printed was contributed to theSaturday Evening Post,in 1841, and those to theNew York Tribunefrom abroad, written in 1844, were widely read and shortly after his return were collected and published inViews Afoot, or Europe Seen With Knapsack and Staff.With a friend he bought a printing office in 1846, and began to publish thePhoenixville Pioneer,but it was as a poet that he excelled above most other vocations.
Afterthe eyes that looked, the lips that spakeHere, from the shadows of impending death,Those words of solemn breath,What voice may fitly breakThe silence, doubly hallowed, left by him?We can but bow the head, with eyes grown dim,And, as a Nation's litany, repeatThe phrase his martyrdom hath made complete,Noble as then, but now more sadly sweet:"Let us, the Living, rather dedicateOurselves to the unfinished work, which theyThus far advanced so nobly on its way,And saved the periled State!Let us, upon this field where they, the brave,Their last full measure of devotion gave,Highly resolve they have not died invain!—That, under God, the Nation's later birthtopOf freedom, and the people's gainOf their own Sovereignty, shall never waneAnd perish from the circle of the earth!"From such a perfect text, shall Song aspireTo light her faded fire,And into wandering music turnIts virtue, simple, sorrowful, and stern?His voice all elegies anticipated;For, whatsoe'er the strain,We hear that one refrain:"We consecrate ourselves to them, the Consecrated!"
Afterthe eyes that looked, the lips that spake
Here, from the shadows of impending death,
Those words of solemn breath,
What voice may fitly break
The silence, doubly hallowed, left by him?
We can but bow the head, with eyes grown dim,
And, as a Nation's litany, repeat
The phrase his martyrdom hath made complete,
Noble as then, but now more sadly sweet:
"Let us, the Living, rather dedicate
Ourselves to the unfinished work, which they
Thus far advanced so nobly on its way,
And saved the periled State!
Let us, upon this field where they, the brave,
Their last full measure of devotion gave,
Highly resolve they have not died invain!—
That, under God, the Nation's later birth
Of freedom, and the people's gain
Of their own Sovereignty, shall never wane
And perish from the circle of the earth!"
From such a perfect text, shall Song aspire
To light her faded fire,
And into wandering music turn
Its virtue, simple, sorrowful, and stern?
His voice all elegies anticipated;
For, whatsoe'er the strain,
We hear that one refrain:
"We consecrate ourselves to them, the Consecrated!"
PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SON THOMAS ("TAD")
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Benjamin Franklin Taylor, born at Lowville, New York, July 19, 1819. He was for several years connected with theChicago Evening Journal.He wrotePictures of Life in Camp and Field(1871);The World on Wheels,etc. (1874);Songs of Yesterday(1877);Between the Gates(1878);Summer Savory,etc. (1879);Dulce Domum(1884);Theophilus Trent,a novel (1887); etc. Among his best known poems are:Isle of the Long Ago,Rhymes of the River,andThe Old Village Choir.