E 457 
 .8 
 
 . W753 
 Copy 2 
 
 i;i)e Beatf) ot 
 
 PRESIDENT LINCOLN, 
 
 APRIL 15, 1865. 
 
iSif? i^atli of f rfaiJJf nt ffiinrnltt. 
 
 SERMON 
 
 PRhACHED IN 
 
 ST. PETER'S CHURCH, ALBANY, N. Y., 
 
 V/EDNESDAY, APRIL 19, 1865, 
 
 REV. WILLIAM T. WILSON, M.A., 
 
 RECTOR. 
 
 ALBANY : 
 
 WEED, PARSONS AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, 
 
 1865. 
 
 °n "- 
 

 
CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Albany. April 19, 1865. 
 The Rev. Wm. T. Wilson : 
 
 Dear Sir — The undersigned, members of the vestry of St. 
 Peter's Church, having listened with deep interest to the very 
 appropriate and impressive discourse delivered by you this 
 morning, on the occa.sion of the funeral solemnities in honor of 
 our hite President, the lamented Abraham Lincoln, would 
 earnestly request you to furnish them with a copy for publica- 
 tion ; and in making this reiiuest. they beg leave to assure you 
 they express not less the general feeling of the congregation 
 than their own. 
 
 Very respectfully, your friends and parishioners. 
 
 ORLANDO MEADS. JAMES KIDD. 
 
 JOHN lAYLER COOPER. .JOSEPH PACKARD. 
 
 JOHN TWEDDLE. JESSE C. POTTS. 
 
 HARMON PT'MPELLY. WM. N. FASSETT. 
 
 MOSES PATTEN, PHILIP TEN EYCK. 
 
 St. Petees Rectory. Albany. April 20. 1865. 
 Gentlemen : 
 
 In reply to your kind note, asking for a copy of the sermon 
 preached by me yesterday at St. Peter's Church, in commemo- 
 ration of our late President. Abraham Lincoln. I have only to 
 say, that I very cheerfully comply with your request. The 
 sermon is a simple and hurried one. yet I am glad to print it as 
 a poor, but heartfelt tribute to the memorj" of a good man. 
 Yours very respectfully. 
 
 WILLIAM T. WILSON. 
 
 To THE GENTI£MEN OF THE VeSTRY OF ST. PeTER'S. 
 
®r^er of H)i\nne Service. 
 
 Thk I)e Profxndis: 
 "Out of the deep h:ive I called unto tbee. O Lord." — Vhoir. 
 
 Sentences from the Burial Office: 
 "1 am tlie Resurrection and tbe Life." 
 
 The Lesser Litany : 
 "O Christ, hear us." 
 
 Anthem from the Burial Office : 
 'I^ord. let me know my end and the number of my days." 
 
 Choir. 
 
 Lesson : 1 Cor. xv, 20. 
 
 Hymn 130. 
 "Peace, troubled soul."^r?iotr. 
 
 Sermon. 
 
 Hymn 201 : 
 "Who are these in bright array?" — Choir. 
 
 Prayers from the Burial Office. 
 
 Sentence from the Revei^tions : 
 "I heard a voice from Heaven." — Alto Solo. 
 
 Benediction. 
 
SERMOX. 
 
 Thou knowest not what a -ia^. uiav bring forth!" 
 What riad verification of the Wi=e Plan's words has 
 just come to as! how sadden and appalling the dis- 
 aster that has fallen upon the nation ! Perhaps never 
 before was the revulsion of feeling in a people greats; 
 never before did a whole country pass instantaneoaaly 
 and at a single stef> from the heij^t of exultation to 
 the lowest depth of grief. These were to have beoi 
 days of rejoicing. We were about to lift op our hearts 
 in thanksgiving. All thin^ confined to make us 
 glad. Victory, brilliant and unexamj^ed^ had ju^ 
 crowned our arms. The citadel of the H^tdlion had 
 faUen. That army which from the first had been it? 
 strong right arm had been shatt»ed and takeiL The 
 nation's flag floated once again over all the pvindpal 
 cities of the South. The season in which we celebrate 
 the Loni's Resurrection promised to be made manor- 
 able in our annals by the restorati<m of public order 
 
8 
 
 and unity and peace. The national integrity had been 
 vindicated in four years of gigantic strife. The drum- 
 beat, the call to ai'ins, had ceased. The long agony 
 and sacrifice, and sword and flame of war, were over 
 and done. The veterans of many a hard-fought field 
 were turning their expectant eyes toward home. Glad 
 hearts were yearning to go forth and meet them. The 
 former days were to return. The sword was to be ex- 
 changed for the plough-share, and the pruning-hook 
 was again to replace the spear. Surely, never were a 
 people on the eve of a greater or more exultant joy! 
 
 But in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, by 
 the hand of an assassin, the great joy is dimmed by 
 a great grief. Far and wide over the whole land the 
 shock of this disaster falls. Everywhere you see it 
 reflected in pale and horror-stricken faces. The prepa- 
 rations of jul)ilee are turned into the preparations of 
 bereavement. The draped and half-hung flags attest 
 the affliction of the people. The triumphal procession 
 gives way to the procession of mourners. The ovation 
 becomes a funeral, and the Te Deum of victory sinks 
 into the wail for the dead. 
 
 It is the contrast of a week ! Thou knowest not what 
 a day may bring forth! But yesterday, as it seems, 
 and we were listening to the merry peal of bells, and 
 
9 
 
 the boom of cannon, and the shouts of a multitude — 
 and to-day it is the funeral knell and the minute-gun I 
 A nation sorrows for its great and honored Chief. 
 
 There is something strangely pathetic, strangely 
 tragic, both in the time and manner of this great man's 
 death. He had been spared to his country in the hour 
 of her trial, in the agony of her threatened dissolution, 
 in all her sad passage through the valley of humilia- 
 tion, only to be taken away in the first dawn of her 
 returning and added greatness. His had been the most 
 fearful responsibility under which man had stood in 
 modern times — responsibility which had furrowed brow 
 and cheek with ceaseless cares and great anxieties — 
 and he was barely permitted to taste the rewards of a 
 faithful stewardship in the commendation of his coun- 
 trymen and of the world. No other man was so identi- 
 fied with the national crisis in which he lived. The 
 position he occupied made him its Kepresentative Man. 
 Events had forced upon him that responsibility in 
 which the only alternative was an immortality of honor 
 or an immortality of shame. Perhaps, brethren, even 
 now, we cannot fully realize what these four years past 
 have been to this weary and heavy-laden man. There 
 is little or nothing in our own experience to help us 
 2 
 
10 
 
 to it. However intense onr interest in the struggle, 
 ours has been only a private and individual responsibil- 
 ity. A nation's fate lay not in our keeping. Upon 
 our every thought, and word, and deed, there has been 
 no ceaseless and imposed constraint. How often has 
 our speech been inconsiderate and rash! We were not 
 forced to \\'eigh it. There has been no fearful, consum- 
 ing, never-ending care which brought us weary days 
 and sleepless nights. But upon the heart of this one 
 man the gathered burden of the Nation was laid. The 
 destiny of his Country was in his keeping. Upon his 
 wisdom, patience, tirnmes?, integrity, forbearance, and 
 self-control, what mighty is.sues hung!" He lived in the 
 crisis of an hour when his every act must reach on, in 
 its effect, to generations yet unljorn. 1 do not wonder 
 that the painter of the great picture in the Rotunda, 
 has given to that face a sad, and worn, and weary look. 
 What man could front such constant and weighty re- 
 sponsibilities and not look sad, and worn, and weary? 
 There must have been many hours in which he felt 
 utterly alone, when the travail of his soul was in secret, 
 when there was borne in upon him that bitter sense of 
 solitariness which belongs to the Prophets of the Race, 
 which must be the lot of those who are intrusted with 
 the destinies of nations. 
 
11 
 
 It is scarcely possible that we private citizens should 
 ever be just, during life, to our great public men. We 
 cannot put ourselves in their position ; we cannot make 
 the allowances that are due. It is so easy to criticise 
 an act when the responsibility of that act is not brought 
 home to you — so easy to overlook great qualities, and 
 seize upon small defects of character. Sincerely and 
 deeply as we all honor and mourn for him who is 
 dead, perhaps there is no single one of us who has not 
 at times spoken of him impatiently or harshly. I do 
 not refer to this in the way of self-condemnation ; in 
 the confusions and perplexities of such a crisis it was 
 almost inevitable; no^life is free from its mis-judg- 
 ments and mistakes, and your criticism and mine may 
 or may not have been just — but perhaps we would not 
 have made it, or made it more gently, had we been able 
 to realize for ourselves all the trying anxieties of his 
 position. 
 
 Yet it is one of the conditions of true greatness not 
 to be dependent on prompt recognition or popular sym- 
 pathy — to be content to labor and to wait. And he 
 waited, as we see it now, with a magnanimous and 
 wondrous patience. In the frequent and marked alter- 
 nations of public feeling we have heard from him no 
 murmur of complaint. And he is stricken down in 
 
12 
 
 the very hour when, wdthout exception, and without 
 distinction of party, the sentiment of the whole coun- 
 try wasi clear in its recognition of his unswerving fidel- 
 ity to his ti-ust. Sweet, indeed, to Abraham Lincoln, 
 would have been the cup which even now a grateful 
 Nation had lifted to his lips. It is not in human na- 
 ture for even true greatness to be indifferent to the re- 
 freshment of poj^ular favor after it has borne the heat 
 and burden of the day. It can do without it, if neces- 
 sary, but it is none the less welcome when it comes. 
 What a tragic taking-off, then, was this! 
 
 But the fact that the President did not live to reap 
 the full measure of the Nation's applause is not that 
 which is most pathetic in his fate. It is but simple 
 justice to him to say that, far beyond all other thoughts, 
 rose his pure and lofty patriotism. It is the endow- 
 ment of large natures to be superior to personal con- 
 siderations, and no one will deny that to the President's 
 heart the salvation of his country was far dearer than 
 the appreciation of his countrymen. He had led her 
 through trial unparalleled in her history. Upon him 
 had fallen the cares of four such years as she had never 
 known. And, at last, after all the harassing vicissitudes 
 of war he saw upon the mountains the shining feet of 
 the Messengers of Peace. But he saw them only from 
 
13 
 
 afar. Like another leader of another people it was not 
 permitted him to pass over with his nation into the 
 promised land. On the hither side his own steps were 
 stayed. It was not given him to be the Chief Magistrate 
 of a country once again at unity, concord, and peace. 
 His own life was to complete that costly sacrifice which 
 had been heaped up on her altars. A fate tragic and 
 pathetic indeed! 
 
 He has passed into history. This is not the occasion 
 or the place to vindicate or criticise the political prin- 
 ciples that have marked his public life. Nor, even 
 if it were fitting, would it be possible to make any fair 
 and impartial estimate of him as a statesman now. 
 After death we see men more a.s they really are, yet 
 in the first hours of his decease, we cannot adequately 
 do justice to the memory of a great public man. Time 
 alone can give liim liis true place in the world's history. 
 The future historian of this war will be also the his- 
 torian of Abraham Lixcolx. When the films of mis- 
 conception and passion and prejudice have passed away, 
 when there remains not a vestige of those partizan- 
 ships from which no man in his generation can be 
 ever wholly free, when the coming years shall have de- 
 termined beyond appeal the real character of every 
 issue that has been involved in the struggle, when in 
 
14 
 
 the calm A-ision which distance brings, men see things 
 and events in their just relations and proportions — 
 then, and not till then, will the true biography of the 
 President be written. The truest life stands in the 
 closest relation to the prer^nt and to the future. Every 
 inan who aspires to be a leader among his fellows must 
 be not only an interpreter of his own age, but also a 
 herald of the age which is to come. He is so linked 
 with his race that these conditions are involved in his 
 work in the world. To the coming generation, then, 
 it belongs to determine what the work of thb man ha- 
 Ijeen. Posterity Ls just. History is impartial. We 
 need not fear to leave the reputation of the lamented 
 dead with them. In some resj:>ect they may reverse or 
 modify our judgments, but whatever position is as- 
 signed him among the 1 "enefactor^j of mankind, we 
 cannot doubt that it will Ije a great and honored one. 
 
 But while not presuming to fix the position of the 
 statesman, it is fitting that we should do homage to 
 the personal worth and Wrtues of the man. That, at 
 least, is a demand of the hour. It is not often that the 
 pulpit can be used for a funeral eulogiuni. In this 
 sacred place, where we come l»efore God \nth the ac- 
 knowledgment that we are all miserable sinners, one 
 shrinks from anything that might seem to savor of 
 
15 
 
 extravagance or-adulation. We are reminded that the 
 fairest human life, in God's sight, is not without its 
 stain; that it must fall infinitely short of that high 
 ideal which the Gospel has set l>efore us. In the pres- 
 ence of the Lord, and in His holy temple, we would 
 utter no undesened, or forced, or unreal words. Yet 
 there are times when, even in God's house, the tribute 
 of praise in the recognition of human worth, is not 
 only permissible but just. WTien dignity of public 
 station is united to loftiness and purity of character, 
 the homage should not be uncertain or reluctant that 
 is si>oken here. And yet on this occasion I can scarcely 
 find words large and strong enough to render it. 1 
 can do but poor, brief justice to my theme. 
 
 How fully the moral virtues of the late President 
 had commended themselves to the appreciation of his 
 country, has its best witne^ in the unvarying tone of 
 the popular press. I have looked in vain for any ex- 
 pression of detraction. The friends and the opponents 
 of his administration have \'ied with each other in 
 generous tributes to his memory. There has been 
 something strangely touching and inspiring in the 
 spectacle of these few days past — a whole people for- 
 getting all political differences to unite in the recogni- 
 tion of moral worth. The fact is too significant to be 
 
16 
 
 overlooked, that the qualities of the lamented dead 
 which ai"e foremost upon every lip, and which there 
 is found none to dispute, are his simple and unvarying 
 goodness, his incorruptible integrity of character, his 
 purity and straightforwardness of purpose. These are 
 not the most dazzling qualities, yet they are those which 
 endear a man to his fellows. When all is over, we fall 
 back upon them as the elements which must shape our 
 estimate of his real worth. We admire brilliancy of 
 intellect, but we have tears for the memory of the good. 
 It is moral greatness which enshrines a man in the 
 hearts of his countrymen, and vindicates at last its su- 
 periority to any other. And he was strong and patient; 
 firm, yet gentle; just, but merciful. What that true, 
 brave, earnest, unselfish life has been to the Nation in 
 all these years of trial, perhaps we shall never fully 
 know. Had his high trust been held by an unscrupu- 
 lous and ambitious man, no imagination could picture 
 all the horrors that might have been before us. But 
 in the integrity of its Head, the Nation reposed with 
 an implicit trust; amid all the stormy passions and 
 cloudy bewilderments of the time, that shone out like 
 a guiding star. Honesty was the quality which, 
 whether in praise or depreciation, was always associated 
 with his name; and, although honesty is not all that 
 
17 
 
 is required of a leader, history is the witness that the 
 most splendid endowments without that have never 
 given to the world a life of true beneficence. An 
 honest man, the poet says, is the noblest work of God ; 
 and the minister of God can select no moral character 
 more worthy of his eulogium. Yes, our President was 
 a simple, good, and honest man. In him we have lost 
 what we could ill afford to lose. He has been called 
 the purest public man of his day; and, however that 
 may be, it is no disparagement to others to say that the 
 death of Abraham Lincoln was an untimely death, 
 an inscrutable dispensation of Providence, a great na- 
 tional disaster. We mourn for him as for an irrepa- 
 rable loss, as we have never mourned at the worst tid- 
 ings of defeat. 
 
 Nor is this all for which we have to mourn. There 
 is another cause for mourning, in which shame mingles 
 with grief. Our annals have been defaced by what 
 before had been to them an unknown crime. The 
 country has been shocked, absolutely stunned, by its 
 commission. Treason and rebellious war we had 
 become familiar with. Even the wild barbarities of 
 this strife we could find it in our hearts to pardon. 
 
 But no man is found to palliate the assassin's foul 
 and stealthy deed. T would not speak one word to stir 
 in you any thought of vengeance. That were, indeed, 
 3 
 
18 
 
 unfitting here. Rage is cruel, and impotent, and blind ; 
 and the worst that it could do would be as nothing in 
 comparison with the guilt of the a;ssassin. Let Justice 
 hold the even tenor of her way, and let the Law exact 
 the penalty of its own violation. 
 
 But there is another penalty, awful, inexorable, re- 
 morseless, which has come upon that guilty soul al- 
 ready, and which every succeeding age will take up and 
 confirm. Two men have just entered upon an earthly 
 immortality: the one as a Martyr of Liberty, beloved, 
 honored and lamented, the other as the greatest crimi- 
 nal of modern times, upon whom are heaped a nation's 
 execrations. Time will never take that burden off. 
 
 "The days will .i;i"'>\v to weeks, the weeks to months, 
 The months will add themselves and make the years, 
 The years will roll into the centuries, 
 And his will ever be a name of ^corn" — ■ 
 
 Yes, forever a name of execration, infamy, and scorn. 
 What an awful innnortality is this! To be pursued 
 from generation to generation by a people's endless 
 curse; his very name a word of loathing even upon 
 little children-'s lips ! For him, as for the first murderer 
 of the world, is not his punishment greater indeed than 
 he can bear? 
 
 But while we stand aghast before his crime, let us 
 remember that it is but a fearful manifestation of that 
 
19 
 
 same sin which is common to us all. This should be 
 a day not merely of mourning, but of humiliation. 
 The possibilities of murder are in every heart. The 
 spirit of Cain is in the race, and at a word it may 
 blossom into crime in you and me. We are bound 
 together in a mysterious fellowship of good and evil. 
 This criminal, outcast and outlaw though he be, may 
 yet claim kindred with us in a sad brotherhood of sin. 
 There is no evil done under the sun in which, remotely, 
 we have not our share. While, therefore, we execrate 
 the crime, let us not forget to mourn, with tears and 
 penitence, that sinfulness in ourselves and in the world, 
 which has made such crime possible. 
 
 And with this thought we should be slow to charge 
 complicity in it upon others. It is far too dreadful, 
 too awful, too diabolical, for light or indiscriminate 
 accusation. We would fain believe, even against evi- 
 dence, if it must be, that no leader of the rebellion 
 could incite or approve of such a damning deed. Still 
 less should it embitter our feelings towards the people 
 of the South. They have proved themselves desperate 
 rebels and traitors, it is true, but they have proved 
 also their gallantry on many a stricken field, and 
 men who rush undaunted upon the cannon's mouth, 
 and bare their naked breasts to the glittering steel, 
 are not the men who make or countenance assassins. 
 
20 
 
 I have already spoken of what seemed so tragic 
 and pathetic in our President's death. How could it 
 be otherwise than hard, after all this care, misrepre- 
 sentation, and apparent defeat of fame, to be stricken 
 down in the moment of his triumph, and in the hour 
 of his country's awakening and^ grateful recognition? 
 Yet, in another and deeper reference, his death was 
 not so untimely as it seems. Never, perhaps, could 
 he have been better prepared to be summoned into 
 the presence of his Maker. In Republics, as in King- 
 doms, rulers reign by the grace of God. Their re- 
 sponsibility is not only to the people. There is an- 
 other tribunal before which they must give account 
 of their stewardship, and answer for the things that 
 they have done. To that tribunal Abraham Lix- 
 coLN has passed, not in an hour of pride, not in a 
 mood of vindictiven'ess, not in the darkness of revenge ; 
 but "when," in the eloquent tribute of a political oppo- 
 nent, "all his thoughts were concentrated upon peace, 
 and when his heart was full of purposes of mercy." 
 Sic semper tyrannisf was the shout of the ai^sassin, 
 as he brandished his weapon before a horror stricken 
 crowd after he had done that dastard deed. Ah ! poor, 
 counterfeit, and painted ])assion. Foul, false, and 
 slanderous word! It din).< not the glory that settles 
 on that bowed and bruised head! Most merciful of 
 victors, the world will never couple "tyrant" with 
 
21 
 
 thy name! Thine was not the ambition of a Csesar 
 to purchase thy self -exaltation with thy country's 
 loss! The people of thy deliverance will suffer no 
 aspersion to rest upon thy fame, and in its indignant 
 refutation history will lay the foundation of thy great 
 renown ! 
 
 No! the reputation of the dead President is not 
 stained by one single act of tyranny. If ever revenge 
 may be excusable, it might have been in him. Prom 
 the hour of his inauguration he had been engaged in 
 a life and death struggle with the nation's foes, and 
 sometimes the struggle seemed to go hard against him. 
 Yet the moment the assurance of victory was unalter- 
 ably his, he show^ed a true Christian magnanimity, 
 a marvelous and generous forbearance. In word or 
 deed there is no trace of meditated vengeance. A 
 true father of his country, he went forth with com- 
 passion and tears and gladness to meet his erring but 
 scarce repentant sons. And he himself was called 
 into the presence of the Great Father "when all his 
 thoughts were concentrated upon peace, and when his 
 heart was full of pui*poses of mercy." Blessed are 
 the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children 
 of God; blessed are the merciful, for they shall ob- 
 tain mercy. Let that be his epitaph ! We listen eagerly 
 to catch a great man's dying words. But, in the 
 hour before his death, the President was silent and 
 
22 
 
 sad. And after the fatal messenger had sped, he died 
 and made no si^n. Wc must seek the moral of his 
 life, not in a phrase, hut in his crowning purpose of 
 beneficence. The face, they say, after death, was 
 clothed with a sweet and strange serenity. May we 
 not believe that he who sought peace so earnestly, had 
 found peace, yet not the peace he sought? The peace 
 which the world cannot give. The peace that passeth 
 understanding. The peace which is won through con- 
 flict, and which comes as the reward of faithfulness 
 in that. The peace which Christ alone giveth. Such 
 peace as He gave to His disciples, when, showing them 
 His stricken side, and holding up His wounded hands. 
 He said: "My peaie I give unto you!" 
 
 Brethren, how can we better honor the memory of 
 the dead than in the reflection of his own great 
 charity — the fulfillment of his own beneficent designs? 
 This is no hour for muttered vengeance. This is ho 
 time for ruthless retribution. It would be a stroke 
 more cruel even than the blow^ of the assassin to in- 
 augurate a reign of terror with his burial, and offer 
 a holocaust of human victims at his tomb. Peace and 
 Mercy! is not this the legacy, the watchword he has 
 left us, with which to go forth and meet a vanquished, 
 vet kindred, foe? Such mercv as may be consistent 
 
23 
 
 with the safety of the Republic; and such peace as 
 may lay deep and broad again the foundation for a 
 free, restored, and reunited People. 
 
 And in our bereavement, let us not forget to dis- 
 cern the finger of God, to recognize His Fatherly cor- 
 rection. It requires no little effort to bring ourselves 
 to think of our affliction thus. Our first and almost 
 irresistible impulse is to view it simply as an un- 
 mitigated disaster. Yet there is no failure and no 
 loss in the economy of the infinite Wisdom. We can- 
 not doubt that in the permission of that deed God had 
 a wise and far-reaching purpose. We cannot tell what 
 it may be, but we know that it is always His to over- 
 rule e\il for good. Perhaps it was to chasten, in these 
 first hours of triumph, a too arrogant and exultant 
 joy. Perhaps it was to secure us from the immodera- 
 tion of victory, and lead us to wait humbly upon that 
 Providence from whom all victory comes. Perhaps 
 it was to deepen our devotion to our country, by this 
 final and crowning sacrifice which the preservation of 
 her integrity has cost. It would seem that the nation 
 must grow^ as does the church, from the seed sown 
 in the martyr's blood. That this visitation has soft- 
 ened men's hearts strangely, we ourselves can see. 
 Not since the commencement of this sad war has there 
 
24 
 
 been such unity of feeling. It is no partizan spirit 
 that has draped the land in habiliments of woe. Party 
 lines and animosities seem for the time to have ceased, 
 and we are again a great people, reunited in a great 
 grief. 
 
 Let the pure, unselfish patriotism of the honored dead 
 be unto us a lesson teaching by example! Let it 
 animate and inspire us ! Let us cherish in our hearts, 
 and strive to realize in our lives, a true Christian 
 patriotism — not merely the patriotism which is a ciWc 
 virtue, but the patriotism which is a religious duty! 
 May we grow in faith and love and devotion to the 
 Nation. May we hold it as the goodly heritage which 
 we have received from our fathers, and which we are 
 to transmit to our children. May ours be the cheer- 
 ful. wilUng, holy self-sacrifice, if for further sacrifice 
 there should be any call, which should become the 
 Christian patriot, which should belong to the Christian 
 citizen. In prayer, and the strength which comes of 
 prayer, we may do the work that has been given us to 
 do. Then shall this fair land, this continent guarded 
 by the mountains and girded by the seas, become the 
 heritage of our children and of our children's chil- 
 dren — its laws respected, its authority in\-iolate, the 
 integral unity of its territory unimpaired, stable in 
 the righteousness that exalteth a nation, and under the 
 
25 
 
 majesty of a flag which droops upon no field — symbol 
 of power and purity — the home of Freedom, the home 
 of Justice, and the home of Peace ! 
 
 As for our dead President, his work is done. Care 
 shall furrow brow and cheek no more. That great 
 heart is bowed no longer beneath the affliction of his 
 people. The long weariness is over and past. The 
 sad face is calm and still and untroubled now. Even 
 as we speak they are bearing him to the long home 
 and the narrow house — they are reading at the Na- 
 tion's Capital the burial sendee for the dead — earth 
 to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust; looking 
 for the general Eesurrection and the life of the world 
 to come. Yes ! the life of the world to come. Let us 
 comfort one another with these words! Not vainly 
 do these yet unwithered Easter flowers hold their place 
 amidst all the drapery of grief. They symbolize an 
 immortal hope, the triumph over death and the resur- 
 rection from the dead. The faithful servant, we may 
 trust, hath entered into the joy of his Lord. Let us 
 leave him to his rest/— the blessedness of them who 
 rest from their labors! 
 
 4 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 012 025 122 3