■ E457 • cc5^v A *_ O & '" ♦*♦ .is^.' :- w i ♦* V \ 4 o P *V^^'\^ %/*^^V> \/^%V«/" %/^ SERMON ON THE OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. PREACHED IN THE SOUTH BAPTIST CHURCH, HARTFORD, CONN., SUNDAY, APRIL 16, 1865. v By REV. C. B. CRANE. HARTFORD: PRESS OF CASE, LOCKWOOD AND COMPANY. 1865. 'OfWASHWS flifc Ca c ' Hartford, April 17, 1865. Rev. C. B. Crane. Dear Sir : Having listened to your sermon yes- terday, upon the sad event of the death of our late President, and fully endorsing the sentiments of the discourse, we respectfully solicit a copy for the press, believing that its circulation in a per- manent form will subserve the interests of justice and freedom. We are truly yours, ALBERT DAY, JAS. G. BATTERSON, HORACE J. MORSE, DANIEL F. SEYMOUR, E. OVERAND, JOSEPH L. BENNETT, A. M. SMITH, R. S. LAWRENCE. Hartford, April 18, 1865. Hon. Albert Day, James G. Batterson, Esq., Gen. Horace J. Morse, and others : The sermon which you request for publication, owing to its necessarily hasty preparation, greatly needs revision ; but since its circulation should be immediate, if ever, I hereby submit it to your disposal. I am most truly yours, C. B. CRANE. SEEMON. 2 SAMUEL, 1 : 19. " THE BEAUTY OF ISRAEL IS SLAIN UPON THE HIGH PLACES ; HOW ARE THE MIGHTY FALLEN ! " The nation is weeping to-day ; and its temples and homes and places of business and public edifices are draped in mourning. Strong men, who could en- dure the shock of personal calamity and the pangs of personal bereavement with uncomplaining forti- tude, are shaken by the violence of their emotions, and their tears fall upon the pavement of the crowded street. Gentle women, secluding themselves at home, mourn as for a husband or a lover. The fes- tivities of society are checked, and plans for future gayety are stopped in their process of realization. Over the whole American sky are clouds and thick darkness. Threnodies are sung by quivering lips and wail from melancholy organs. All sounds are dirges, and the countenance of sorrow is adorned with the jewelry of tears. 6 Oh, friends, on the evening of Good Friday, the memorial day of the crucifixion of our Lord, our good, true-hearted, magnanimous, supremely loyal, great President was smitten down by the hand of the assassin; and y ester morn, at twenty-two. min- utes past seven of the clock, his noble and holy soul went up from its shattered and desecrated taberna- cle to its God. The terrible tragedy is consummated, its heart- rending denouinent has transpired, there can be no revision of it, it stands the blackest page save one in the history of the world. It is the after-type of the tragedy which was accomplished on the first Good Friday, more than eighteen centuries ago, upon the eminence of Calvary in Judea. Yes, it was meet that the martyrdom should occur on Good Friday. It is no blasphemy against the Son of God and the Savior of men that we declare the fitness of the slaying of the Second Father of our Republic on the anniversary of the day on which he was slain. Jesus Christ died for the world ; Abraham Lincoln died for his country. The conse- cration of Jesus to humanity began in the antiquity of eternity, and found its culmination when he cried with white, yet triumphant, lips, on the cross, " it is finished." The consecration of Abraham Lincoln to the American peojole had its phenomenal and most manifest beginning in the summer of 1858, when he entered upon that memorable Senatorial Campaign in which, while he sustained a technical defeat, he gained a substantial victory; it found its culmina- tion on the evening of the fourteenth day of April, 1865, when the sharp pistol report announced with terrible inarticulateness, " it is finished." And let it not grieve us overmuch, beloved breth- ren, that the conscious life of our late honored Pres- ident ceased in the theatre of our National Capital. He was there, not for the purpose of gratifying him- self, but at a personal sacrifice, and for the sake of the people whom he loved. For this is the state- ment of the public prints : a The President and Mrs. Lincoln did not start for the theatre until fifteen minutes after eight o'clock. Speaker Colfax was at the White House at the time, and the President stated to him that he was going, although Mrs. Lin- coln had not been well, because the papers had an- nounced that General Grant and they would be present, and as General Grant had gone North he did not wish the audience to be disappointed. He went with apparent reluctance, and urged Mr, Col- fax to go with him ; but that gentleman had made other arrangements, and, with Mr. Ashmun of Massachusetts, bade him Good Bye." " He did not wish the audience to be disappointed," — this was the reason of his presence at the theatre on that fateful evening; and the sentiment which dictated the words has given character to all his private and pub- lic life. One year ago the eighteenth day of next month it was my privilege to meet President Lincoln in the executive chamber of the White House, in company with a delegation from the Methodist General Con- ference, then in session in Philadelphia. I remem- ber that in replying to the address which was read to him he expressed in a most devout manner his gratitude to God for giving to the government the sympathy and support of the churches. And here are words which I wrote soon after the interview, and which I repeat to you in order that you may know the impression which the personal presence of the man produced upon me : " The President looks thin i care-worn. I believe with all my heart that he bears this great nation like a burden on his life. God strengthen and guide him ! " I saw many senators at that time, and many of the representatives in Congress, and the heads of some of the departments ; and I recollect that while many of them were rubicund and jovial, and others showed in their countenances only the resultant fatigue of their labor, — the form of the. President was bowed as by the superimposition of a crushing 9 load, his flesh was wasted as by the consuming flames of incessant solicitude, and his face was thin and fur- rowed and pale as though it had become spiritual- ized by the vicarious pain which he endured in bear- ing in himself the calamities of his country. And just that suffering, worn, martyr-like form and face of his which I looked upon a little less than one year ago ; just that unselfish love and sympa- thy for others which expressed itself in every linea- ment and gesture;— interpret to me the self-deny- ing presence at the theatre, on the night of his immolation, of the noble Atlas on whose shoulders for four bloody years our political world has rested. Oh memorable Good Friday, henceforth a day of sad reminiscences in the calendar of country as well as church ! While I was walking the last evening but one under the solemn stars, all ignora^' ~ o. * ^ ;* «k ^ v v ^