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THE DEATH 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PRESIDEISTT 
 
 SERMON 
 
 BY REV. DAVID SWINQ. 
 
 Preached in the Presbyterian Church at 
 HAmLTON, 0., April 16, 1865. 
 
 1865 : 
 
 HAMILTON TELEGRAPH PRIXT. 
 
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»'The Lord reigiieth ; let the earth rejoice." 
 
 PSAiM 97. 
 
 I shall designate no particular passage of 
 Scripture as the basis of the remarks of this 
 gloomy morning, but shall try to speak in har- 
 mony with the spirit of that sublime psalm, be- 
 ginning with the words, "The Lord reigneth, 
 let the earth rejoice." 
 
 I should be guilty of neglect of duty to my 
 fellow-men, guilty of rudeness to your sacred 
 feeling, and of impiety itself, should I fail at this 
 solemn hour, and in Jehovah's temple, to con- 
 fess the transaction of last Friday night, its hor- 
 ror, its mystery, its grief. I join, therefore, 
 with this assembly in confessing this sad provi- 
 dence of God. Let us acknowledge its greatness 
 and sadness, and confess also, that there must 
 lie hidden within it, something of the divine 
 righteousness and goodness. In the imperfect 
 and brief thoughts of this time, I shall take the 
 stand-point of hope and faith in God, feeling 
 that such a stand- point is justified by our reason 
 and our Christianitv. 
 
Could tliose men who placed the late Presi- 
 dent in office have heen granted the privilege, 
 a few days ago, of selecting an earthly destiny 
 for the Ruler of this people, they would have 
 said with one voice, "May he pass onward to 
 old age with natural powers unabated, enjoying 
 to the extreme limit of human life, the spectacle 
 of a free, and vast, and united country, and of 
 which the happiness and freedom should date 
 its new impulse in the noon of his own life." 
 Such would have been the public wish, for the 
 heart loves to see the bonofaetor of mankind re- 
 ceiving the rewards of years well spent. 
 
 Washington and the Adamses enjoyed a 
 tranquil old age. Full of beautiful retrospection 
 wherein there arose picture after picture of na- 
 tional splendor, their years passed avray as fades 
 a day of summer into the softness of night. Such 
 an ending of a great life gratifies the heart. 
 
 It was not the destiny of Abraham Lincoln 
 to imitate the Washingtons and Adamses in 
 his death, but perhaps it was glory and happi- 
 ness enough for him, that he resembled them in 
 his life. And we confess that, whether one dies 
 in old age by disease, or in the noon or morn of 
 life by violence, is a question less important 
 than whether the Life while it lasts, was well 
 lived for man and native land. If the life was 
 well lived, the suddenness of assassination, 
 
its guilt, its imspGakable cruelty paralyze the 
 living, but are unable to efface the glory of the 
 victims former years, or check the influence of 
 his thoughts. 
 
 But while we thus try to assuage our grief by 
 philosophy, yet our tears return when we feel 
 that our loved nation is bereft of a father, a 
 guide, a friend ; return when we see the great 
 heart, with its tenderness toward soldier and 
 citizen and slave, done with its pulsations ; re- 
 tui-n when we think of the low ingratitude that 
 took the life of one so worthy to live. In our 
 grief we come to the temple of Jehovah, and cry 
 out, **TheLord reigneth — let the earth be glad." 
 
 If there ever have been, or can be, hours in 
 which the religious mind might be glad that 
 there is a power greater than man's ; a power 
 not subject to the vicissitudes attaching to hu- 
 man life ; a power guided at once by justice and 
 love, this is one of those hours. Such a day 
 has not dawned upon us before. Out of the 
 depths of its sorrow we cry out to God. In 
 His wisdom and power and love and continu- 
 ance from age to age, we find this day our hope 
 and trust. No human hand, brandishing a wea- 
 pon of death, can mould the fate of this people, 
 for above is God. The murderer can stop the 
 pulse of a single great and noble heart. In the 
 economy of earth it is possible for the meanest 
 
6 
 
 man to slay the noblest niler ; he can make the 
 wife a widow, the children fatherless ; can bring 
 our flags to half-mast, can drape our houses with 
 black, and fills with tears eyes unaccustomed to 
 weep, but it is the hand of God that leads na- 
 tions from the morning to the night of their 
 lives. Around man is God. Man cooimits 
 acts, but God shapes destinies. Judas could 
 give the betraying kiss, and could receive the 
 pieces of silver ; a common executioner could 
 nail to the cross ; a mercenary soldier could 
 pierce the side, but it lay beyond the power of man 
 to overthrow Christ's philosophy, or to keep His 
 spirit in the tomb. Over and around and above 
 man is God, omnipotent, righteous and good. 
 One man may influence the phenomena of the 
 hour. Him whom we loved as President yester- 
 day, is lying motionless to day. It was per- 
 mitted to a single monster of vice to send our 
 Magistrate from the busy capital to the silent 
 grave, but Him whom we loved as God yester- 
 day, lives as God still, the same yesterday, to-day 
 and forever, and the march of His events is more 
 perpetual than the flashing of the sun. 
 
 The toiling ants, laboring with extreme in- 
 dustry, can change the position of atoms of earth, 
 placing this particle here and that one there, but 
 the great globe with its hills and vales and 
 oceans, turns over at the voice of God. The 
 
toiling insect with its puny works, goes around 
 with the immense mass. That assassin of new, 
 but unparalelled infamy, transfers the sacred clay 
 from the avenues of Washington to the tomb, 
 but the plan of God rolls around, bearing on its 
 broad bosom the fugitive murderer and the pale 
 corpse. The stealthy tread of assassins, the long 
 planned treason of Richmond and Charleston, 
 the midnight plottings in Indianapolis and Chi- 
 cago, the meeting of incendiaries in New York, 
 all disturb the surface of society, but around 
 these commotions is God, infinite in his goodness 
 and beautiful in his everlasting peace. 
 
 By casting pebbles into a river, children can 
 ruffle its bosom, but the mighty stream passes 
 onward toward its far off ocean. 
 
 Pittiable assassin ! he has ruffled the bosom of 
 Freedoms tide, but leaves the grand river to roll 
 onward toward its sea. 
 
 Every nation has twe Kings — one with an 
 earthly scepter, the other upon the great white 
 throne. In the white throne lie the grandeur, the 
 strength, the final hopes of nations. Sometimes 
 the earthly prince falls by violence ; at last all 
 such princes comes by various paths to the sep- 
 ulchre, but from the brow of the heavenly King 
 the crown never falls, that throne never becomes 
 dust. Moses and Aaron sunk in death in 
 mountain solitudes, their eye having caught only 
 
8 
 
 fading visions of the promised land, tlieir feet 
 paused on its flowery borders, but with these 
 loaders cold in death, the nation itself passed 
 over the sacred river and encamped in the lovely- 
 land. It was not God that died upon Mt. Pis- 
 gah. It was Moses and Aaron. When an 
 eartlily voice has ceaeed to guide by its wisdom, 
 there remains yet the universe's everlasting 
 voice, awful in thunderings of wrath, or comfort- 
 ing in its whisperings of love. And the policy 
 of this King of Kings cannot be otherwise than 
 right and kind. The mind is not capable of be- 
 lieving the opposite, so that we hasten to confess 
 that there must be a warm sunshine pouring 
 down upon the other side of the cloud that en- 
 shrouds us now. Many times in history it haa 
 corns to pass that the martyrdom of the truth 
 holder has proven the triumph of his truth. The 
 broken box of ointment sends its perfume out 
 upon the winds. Christians soon learned to say 
 that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the 
 Church. It is more than possible that the sen- 
 timents of the illustrious dead were not suffi-'ient- 
 ly sacred to the public heart. It is possible that 
 too many wholly rejected them, that too many 
 held them with too feeble a grasp, that too many _ 
 stood by indifferent or mocking spectators of the 
 thrilling scenes of the last four years, and that 
 now a kind God comes in this sad calamity to 
 
silence the mockiiigs of men, and to ta,\e away 
 the indifFerence from thousands of souls, and to 
 substitute for it some conception of the greatness 
 of passing events and some respect for the prin- 
 ciples which have led to martyrdom. The gar- 
 ments of the dead Ca?sar were more powerful than 
 his brandished sword. The rude rents of the dag- 
 gers aroused and cemented dissevered Roman 
 millions, and it may prove that God wishes 
 once again to arouse and bind together discord- 
 ant American hearts, by placing before them the 
 lifeless body of the highest officer of state. 
 During all the life of Mr. Lincoln his mind has 
 clung to those truths which favor the equality, 
 and liberty, and progress of mankind. In tho 
 hour of his greatest devotion to these principles, 
 and while the eyes of millions are turned toward 
 himself, he falls dead in the very forum of lib- 
 erty, that the garments of the slain Ctesar may 
 transcend the eloquence of life. 
 
 To the voice of martyred soldiers who have 
 fallen like the leaves of Autumn, there is added 
 now the voice of the murdered President, as if 
 God were now asking in such mournful manner 
 whether they will not at last consent to love 
 their laud so memorable for its bloody sacrifice. 
 
 And it is more than possible that on last Fri- 
 day there yet remained in this land tens of thou- 
 sands in the loyal states who had not yet beeu 
 
10 
 
 the spirit of the great rebellion, thousands, who, 
 from predjudice could not, thousands, who, from 
 past professions, durst not confess its wickedness 
 and cruelty, thousands who have apologized for, 
 and even admired the leaders of this revolt; before 
 all which thousands an overruling Providence 
 places this day, the whitened face of our President, 
 asking them if noAv they can discover anything 
 in the rebellion besides honor ? 
 
 It seemed not enough that thousands of soldiers 
 had baptized the national truths in their blood. 
 War had ceased to move deeply the public soul. 
 War had become a business, a science, an art. 
 In these latter days, a thousand men falling 
 about Richmond or Savannah, have impressed 
 only the mothers and sisters that weep in secret. 
 The rebels slaying patriots on the battle-field, 
 have for three years past, ceased to betray the 
 atrocity of Secession. Many no longer know 
 what general fell in the last battle ; many notice 
 no more the lists of the dead. In this hour of 
 cold neglect God sends death to our door. A 
 name is added to the list now that will be read. 
 The atrocity of the Confederacy is revealed. God 
 has permitted it to express itself through an as- 
 sassin, that every civilized mind may behold the 
 savageness of its nature, the depravity of its ge- 
 nius. 
 
 Lest there might be found some to declare that 
 
11 
 
 the war is honorable on the part of t|ie Confeder- 
 ate Chief, God ha.s permitted that war to assume 
 the garb of assassination, that its nature may 
 find its true estimate. That for two hundred 
 years the genius of this Confederacy has dis- 
 played itself in the working and beating of 
 slaves, in the mobbing of schoolmasters, in the 
 hunting of human beings with blood-hounds, 
 that it has -within the last Olympiad, made 
 ornaments of Northern skulls ; that it has sold 
 poisoned food to soldiers ; that it turned thief 
 before the war and incendiary after ; that it mas- 
 sacred in cold blood the troops of Fort Pillow ; 
 that it has starved to death twenty thousand 
 prisoners of war, has not been thought of God 
 sufficient to fully express the inmost spirit of 
 the Slave Empire. It was capable of other 
 achievements. The weapons of its infernal 
 quiver were not yet shot away. It remained for 
 it to murder a kind and honest man, in a place 
 of public amusement, and to stab in the throat 
 an invalid already on the border of death. 
 
 Time may show that it was a kindness in God 
 to permit this nation to rnce more behold the 
 demon of Charleston and Richmond, ere the 
 terms of the coming peace may be agreed upon 
 by the powers at Washington. Amid the joy 
 and pride of great victories, it might have been 
 the nation's misfortune to forget the long history 
 
12 
 
 and secret nature of its foe, and in a generous hour 
 it might have filled its bosom with vipers waiting 
 to be warmed into life. Our cup is mingled 
 with wormwood and gall. This land is not in- 
 toxicated with gladness now, and years must 
 pass before the hearts that waked upon the 
 morning of last Saturday, can become childish 
 in glee. The dead at Washington shall drive 
 lethargy from every heart, and transform the 
 arm of indolence into one of steel. 
 
 Oh how the power of God works above the 
 power of man. The assassin, leaping upon the 
 stage of the theater, exu-Its as though he had 
 avenged the revolted land. He brandished his 
 weapon as if he had brought back to the South 
 its lost hopes and lost children, but instead of 
 being her avenger, he is a new Nemesis coming 
 with a deeper humiliation. What kind of 
 avenger is that, which transforms the armies of 
 the Republic into an outraged and infuriated and 
 irresistible soldiery, an(i puts the glove of iron 
 on the hand that shall offer the boon of peace. 
 It was a mistaken act for the South ; that which 
 filled with new anger, and just before God, the 
 hearts of over five hundred thousand armed men 
 standing on the soil that has given assassination 
 birth. The arm that was stretche'l forth against 
 Mr. Lincoln was no true avenger. It has silenced 
 the kindest voice the loyal states were willing to 
 
13 
 
 send to the Presidential chair. It has stiftened 
 the hand that most hastened to offer the olive 
 branch to the foe. It has hurried to the tomb 
 tlie largest charity which patriots were willing 
 to t;lothe with kftigly authority. ' 
 
 Thu3 of all foes of the South, her champion 
 may prove the greatest and the last. As her 
 calamities began in its own passions, so by the 
 same passion in tho habit of a murderer shall her 
 calamities proceed. 
 
 Fable informs us that the wife of Hercules, 
 from deep love of her heroic lord, gave him as a 
 gift of affection a splendid garment from the dying 
 Nessus, but no sooner had the hero put on the 
 gift than its threads became strong as steel and 
 poisonous as the adder, and began to sink into 
 the hero's flesh. No hand of friendship could 
 remove the strange vestment, and the mighty 
 Hercules bowed in a deatli of fearful agony. The 
 friend of the South has presented the conspiracy 
 with the robe of the murdered Lincoln. It re- 
 mains for the limbs of the Richmond Hercules 
 to be racked with new tortures. What hand of 
 friendship can take back the fatal gift ? What 
 remains but the closing in of the magic threads 
 and the death of suffering. 
 
 To us looking at the spectacle of to-day, it 
 seems that God is not willing that the voice of 
 mercy shall be heard so loud in the last year of 
 
14 
 
 this mighty struggle. lie reads hearts hetter 
 than we can read, and He seems to see in the 
 souls of the leading conspirators, a depth of guilt 
 that calls for the thunders of justice, rather than 
 the vvooings of misplaced love. I do not know 
 why He has called mildness and forgiveness to 
 the grave, unless it be His wish that even- 
 handed justice shall hold for a time the sceptre 
 of this Republic. Man fails to perceive often 
 the desert of sin. Or perceiving, soon forgets, 
 and forgives because he forgets, but God forgets 
 no crime. The guilt of this treason, the blood 
 that beg]in to flow four years ago have be "n 
 measured by a just God. He holds in fresh re- 
 membrance the sorrow of every widow, the cry 
 of every orphan. He has counted the patriots 
 slain. There is no grave into which He has not 
 seen the body fall. He has seen the starving 
 prisoners raising their sunken eyes toward His 
 starry heavens in prayer. Yes aH that awful 
 guilt lies before Him, vast and visible as this 
 rolling world, and it may be that the mild voice 
 of man is to be superseded by the red right arm of 
 Jehovah. 
 
 But be the future what it may, our trust is 
 still in God. Whether there awaits our loved 
 country any saddei day than this, we know not, 
 but we shall not be cast down by the afflliction 
 of this hour. I hope it is in the heart of no one 
 
15 
 
 in this assembly to murmur in presence of that 
 God who has brought our country through so 
 many vicissitudes in its whole history, and in 
 the years just passed. What seurst conspiracies 
 have been discovered and crushed by the favor 
 of God ! What preservation from foreign wars! 
 What harvests have been gathered in our fields ! 
 What election to office of good men ! What a 
 keeping away of pestilence ! What revivals of 
 religion among citizens and in the tented field ! 
 What overruling of war's delay to the destruction 
 of slavery and the transformation of public 
 thought ! And at last, what success in arms ! 
 Military genius of the highest order has sprung up 
 from humble life, an I the armies of the R3public 
 have borne their shout of triumph from its ming- 
 ling with the murmurs of the Mississippi, to its 
 mingling with the roar of old Ocean. One by 
 one the cities of the foe have fallen back to their 
 lawful owner. The flag of treason has come to 
 its trailing in the dust, while amid the sweet 
 breezes of Spring the "banner of beanty and 
 glory" has climbed up to the sacred places of 
 former years. The government that boasted 
 and defied at Richmond, is an outcast to-day, 
 journeying from village to village as destitute at 
 last of power as it always has been of honor. 
 
 In the temple of such a gift-giving God, let 
 n J heart do otherwise than confess the Divine 
 
16 
 
 poodness. It is not the nation that has died at 
 Washington— it is a hnraan being, nseful in his 
 life and glorious in his death. With his life- 
 work almost done, according to the law of na- 
 ture which assigns man three score of years, he 
 died in the afcernoon, rather than in the late 
 evening of age. If the blood of martyrs make 
 their trnth to grow, then must the truth of this 
 land throw out new leavos and blossoms this 
 day, for the best blood has been poured out for 
 V8 sake. If it is sad that Mr. Lincoln died so 
 Koon, it is delightful to think that he left behind 
 liim a country in which he could find a good 
 tomb. 
 
 The most ambitious spirit could not well ask 
 of God more years or deeds of honor, than have 
 been allotted to Abraham Lincoln. To have 
 acted through tour such years as have just closed 
 to him ; to have thought their thoughts by day 
 and by night; to have slept upon their pillow 
 of care ; to have experienced their joys and sor- 
 rows ; to have marshalled thjir million of troops; 
 to have heard their shouts in the East and West, 
 as they poured onward into the "ranks of war;" 
 to have seen them "reposess the forts ; but great- 
 ei than all, to have declared fie3 four millions 
 of slaves, and to have seen the thoughts and feel- 
 ings of a vast people change from shame to hon- 
 or, from reproach to glory, this is to tranj^form 
 
17 
 
 years into centuries and to baffle the reckonings 
 of Fate. 
 
 And at last, as though his page in history 
 were not sacred enough, as if time might make 
 lis forget its grandeur and worth, God has thrown 
 over the iilnstrious nam3 the glory of trae mar- 
 tyrdom, and to an impressive life has added the 
 charm, the melancholy of a tragical death. It 
 was necessary that Americans should read this 
 page of history not only with interest but with 
 deep emotion. Abraham Lincoln saw to it that 
 we should read his history with interest ; the 
 assassin has seen to it that we shall read it with 
 tears. 
 
 When the great dramatic writers have sought 
 to impress upon, or waken a lasting interest in 
 the minds of mankind, they have resorted to 
 tragedy, because there is something in calamity 
 that writes deep lines in remembrance. Over 
 the history or Mr. Lincoln, hangs now the pall 
 of a violent death. It adds to the influence of 
 Socrates that he was poisoned, and time will 
 show that the a'^sassination of Mr. Lincoln 
 helped to weave his wreath of immortality. 
 
 May God overrule this event also, as a thou- 
 sand past events for the country's good. The 
 happiness of millions is of greater value than the 
 life of a man — the nation is greater than its 
 President, snl if by the dreadful deed which to- 
 
18 
 
 day drapes our church and homes with the em- 
 blems of death and grief, God shall again remind 
 this people of the character of that foe which has 
 toiled long to destroy this land, if He shall thus 
 open the blackness of treason's gulf, if by the 
 gasping, the dying, the dead Chief Magistrate, 
 He shall render the country more dear to our 
 hearts then will the blood that flowed in the 
 theater, unite its usefulness with the crimson 
 tide that has dyed the battlefields of the South. 
 All things we intrust into the hands of God, to 
 whose name be dominion and power and glory 
 forever, Amsn. 
 
 LB S '12