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 Book 
 
 
James Abram Garfield 
 
 A DISCOURSE 
 
 3\x fl^cmoriam 
 
 BY 
 
 DANIEL MERRIMAN DD 
 
 PASTOR OF THE CENTRAL CHURCH 
 
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 ^Pamc^ SUbiram <£atficl&, 
 
 Twentieth President of the United States, 
 
 Died on the 19th of September, A.D. 1881, 
 Aged 49. 
 
 " (3tbcre is 1 an bonor, lihctoisfc, tubicb map be ranftcb among tbc greatest, wbicb 
 bappenctb rarrtp ; tbat is", of sucb as sacrifice tbemscmes to bcatb for tbc gooD 
 of tbeir countrp." 
 
 Ill Ex( 
 
 Amer. An:. SoC. 
 25 Ji i$Q7 
 
WOKCESTER, Oct. 4, 1881. 
 Dear Sir, — 
 
 The deep impression made by your commemorative Discourse on the 
 death of our beloved President, James Abram Garfield, has led to a 
 general desire for its publication in print. Accordingly, at a meeting 
 of members of the Central Church and Society, held at their chapel 
 last evening, the undersigned were instructed to ask of you a copy for 
 the press. We add to this recmest now made the expression of our 
 personal desires to the same end, 
 
 And remain, with true regard, 
 
 Your parishioners and friends, 
 
 CHAS. E. STEVENS. 
 HENRY M. SMITH. 
 GEORGE E. GLADWIN. 
 GEORGE E. MACKINTIRE. 
 WILLIAM E. SAWTELLE. 
 The Rev. Daniel Merriman, D.D. 
 
 To Messrs. Charles E. Stevens, Henry M. Smith, Geo. E. Gladwln, 
 Geo. E. Mackintire, William E. Sawtelle, 
 
 Committee. 
 Gentlemen, — 
 
 In accordance with your request of the 4th inst., I place in your hands 
 a copy of my sermon preached on Sunday, 25th of September. 
 Believe me to be, gentlemen, 
 
 With high esteem, 
 
 Your friend and pastor, 
 
 DANIEL MERRIMAN. 
 Worcester, Oct. 7, 1881. 
 
A ND ALL THE PEOPLE WEPT AGAIN OVEK HIM. — 2 Sam. iii. 34. 
 HE BEING DEAD YET SPEAKETH. — Heb. xi. 4. 
 
DISCOURSE. 
 
 O IXTEEN years and five months ago, this house, 
 ^ draped as it is to-day, was filled with a sad con- 
 gregation. A sermon was preached on the death of 
 Abraham Lincoln. The land had never known such 
 lamentation. Yet it is greater to-day. Another 
 President, ours by peculiar ties, is dead by an assassin. 
 Then the country was divided. Then we were famil- 
 iar with the tragedies enacted by the fury of war. 
 Then the blow and its fatal result came together. 
 Now we are one and at peace. We have had time to 
 think and feel, and our sorrow has a greater breadth 
 and an indescribable tenderness. The horror which 
 seized us at the first dreadful stroke has been deep- 
 ened, and turned into continual heart-ache by the 
 strain of alternate hope and fear through these eighty 
 days, until, at this hour, a nation of fifty millions of 
 people sits like one man, silent, bowed, and weeping, 
 in a concord of pure, remorseful, and loving sorrow, 
 
such as was never seen before. History has not 
 chronicled, and may not again chronicle, such peculiar, 
 unfeigned, and universal grief. The heart of the 
 people is melted like wax. The air almost palpitates 
 with their distress, and the poor and inadequate signs 
 of their woe hang heavily from ocean to ocean. 
 
 Across the seas England and England's Queen, by 
 unprecedented emblem, tribute, and speech, lament 
 with us as though their own were dead ; and far over 
 the wide continents and sea-girt isles the shadow falls ; 
 and mourners unknown to us seem to come and sit 
 down in the ashes by our side to-day, and speak to 
 us in their strange languages of a common sorrow. 
 Dead at last is Garfield the President. A throb of 
 pain goes round the world, as from the heart to the 
 finger-tips of a man. The wheels of commerce 
 are stilled. Noisy exchanges stop for a while their 
 clamor. The talk in senates and cabinets is hushed. 
 The . ensigns of armies are muffled. Ancient cathe- 
 drals fill their arches with the plaint of solemn mise- 
 reres. Kings and emperors, as they sent messages of 
 sympathetic inquiry into that sick chamber, now hasten 
 to offer their meed of condolence and praise. For not 
 only a family, not only a nation, but a world, have 
 been watching at that bedside. The thoughts and 
 affections of millions through these sad weeks have 
 been slowly knit by ties of reverence, love, and sym- 
 
pathy, to that one brave heart so patiently struggling 
 there, till when at last it stopped its beating, the pulses 
 of a world stood still. 
 
 And he was worthy of it all, this great yet simple 
 countryman of ours, whom we loved and trusted, and 
 chose for our chief office-bearer. Yet we had not 
 fully appreciated him. We had not found out all his 
 worth. Like a figure against the fleeting sunset sky, 
 he had walked but a few short months in the eye of 
 the whole people. They had yet to know how really 
 great he was. It needed all the bitter tuition of these 
 agonizing weeks to teach us at last what we, as a 
 nation, have both lost and gained forever in him. 
 
 In him and in his history were mingled to unex- 
 ampled degree all those various elements which bound 
 him alike to the humblest and the loftiest in the land. 
 He stood four-square to all the world. He was a 
 man of the people, and attached them passionately to 
 himself; yet he was at home among the learned, and 
 could stand before kings. His abilities, his training, 
 his character, his career, embraced with extraordinary 
 completeness almost every phase and factor of true 
 greatness. Perhaps only America can breed such a 
 man. Certainly only freedom and the Christian faith 
 can train him. His foot touched almost every step 
 in the long yet swift gradation from the very bottom 
 to the very top of American life ; and at every step 
 
8 
 
 he was the same strong, brilliant, and amply sufficient 
 man. 
 
 How often, since only one short year ago when he 
 was before us for our suffrages, on through his induc- 
 tion into office, his opening administration, and these 
 weeks of heroism, have we gone over, with tearful 
 surprise and pride, the contrasts and progress of 
 that life, so beyond any fiction in the pathos of its 
 early struggles, the splendor of its mid-day achieve- 
 ment, and the immortal patience of its untimely 
 close. Alas ! it is a dreadful loss we have met ; yet 
 happy the people that has the story of such a life 
 to form, till earth's latest generation, the lesson-book 
 of its children. 
 
 How striking the details : the child, fatherless at 
 the age of two, the youngest in a brood of four in a 
 frontiersman's log-home ; the little boy, taking his 
 share of hard work in bearing the burden of a poor 
 but heroic mother ; the lad, — farmer, carpenter, and 
 tow-path driver by turns, and eager student always ; 
 the youth, thirsting for knowledge, and grasping 
 with unaided hands all the resources that neigh- 
 boring schools could furnish ; the college graduate 
 of twenty-five, among the first of his class at Wil- 
 liams, pride of teachers, idol to this day of his 
 fellows, and henceforth the imperishable ornament 
 of the college that nestles among the Berkshire hills ; 
 
9 
 
 the consummate teacher, the preacher, lawyer, and 
 statesman at twenty-eight ; the brilliant soldier at 
 thirty-two, planning and executing successful cam- 
 paigns, and turning the awful tide of battle with his 
 own courage ; for seventeen years the profound stu- 
 dent of public affairs ; the masterly orator and 
 acknowledged leader in the council chamber of the 
 nation, and before fifty its supreme head ; not seek- 
 ing but sought as fittest, welcomed and trusted as 
 best of all, by the suffrages of a great people. How 
 fair and thrilling the story, embracing without stain 
 in its steady movement what fulness of life, what 
 breadth of attainment, what grandeur of manhood! 
 
 No wonder when the cursed shot was fired which 
 laid him low, that you and I and all of us fell down. 
 No wonder that tears of mingled indignation and 
 love fell from the eyes of plain workingmen as they 
 grasped their tools in field or shop. The bulletin- 
 boards, through these sorrowful weeks, have been 
 scanned by the common people more eagerly than by 
 any others, for they knew he was one of them, — in 
 thought, experience, and sympathy their fellow still, 
 though all his great honors were thick upon him. 
 He had tasted their privations, had cherished their 
 worthiest ambitions : their cause was his, and for 
 them he had lived. 
 
 No wonder that finished scholars, and men of let- 
 
10 
 
 ters, on both sides of the sea, have watched the issue 
 of this fateful summer with bated breath, and, now 
 that he has gone, pay him the tribute of their love 
 and admiration ; for he was of their guild. He had, 
 from first to last, the scholar's zeal and love of good 
 learning and the orator's inspiration. By these 
 alone he had made himself a high place among the 
 best. 
 
 No wonder that scarred and laurel-wreathed sol- 
 diers felt that a worthy comrade had fallen, and hung 
 with anxiety upon the tidings from his bed of pain ; 
 for in his short career of war he had shown a sol- 
 dier's genius and bravery, and had written his name 
 among their foremost. His skill in organization, the 
 breadth and wisdom of his counsels in campaign, the 
 romance of his chivalrous ride through the carnage 
 and flame of Chickamauga, from one broken wing 
 of the army to the other, the country, whenever she 
 thinks of her defenders, can never forget. 
 
 No wonder that financiers, economists, and states- 
 men the world over felt, when he was stricken down, 
 that a strong pillar was broken ; for here, in his depth 
 of insight, wealth of knowledge, and precision of 
 statement, he had no superior. His speeches are 
 a treasure-house of fact and principle scarcely 
 matched in the history of national finance, and had 
 made him a long trusted leader. 
 
11 
 
 No wonder that teacher, Christian minister, and 
 reformer grieve for his loss as for a brother ; for he 
 believed in God, believed in the gospel of regenera- 
 tion : and in each of these callings, — in the school- 
 room, in the pulpit, on the platform, as well as on 
 the floor of Congress, — he was devoted with a lofty 
 consecration to the good of mankind. Few men are 
 more fervent and unselfish in the service of their 
 fellows than was he. 
 
 No wonder that the rulers of earth's ancient king- 
 doms felt that the hand which was lifted against him 
 was lifted against them ; for they knew, that, not by 
 hereditary claims, but by the diviner right of genius, 
 learning, and manhood, as recognized by a free 
 people, he was their peer. He made his own crown, 
 and set it on his own head ; but kings saw that it 
 was wrought of as pure metal and set with as serene 
 gems as theirs. 
 
 Yes, he was very great indeed, yet so fair and 
 balanced in his greatness, that men could not easily 
 say wherein it was. Superbly endowed at the out- 
 set in body and mind, he was of massive and sym- 
 metrical proportions in both. His intellect was of 
 the largest mould, reflective rather than intuitive, but 
 having a prodigious capacity, and a vigor and acute- 
 ness of movement which made him easy master of all 
 that he undertook. The reasoning powers were pre- 
 
12 
 
 eminent in him, though they were kindled with an 
 imagination which clothed all the results of his men- 
 tal processes with beauty. These splendid intel- 
 lectual gifts were trained by a prolonged course of 
 severe, untiring, and faithful study. His example 
 here should rouse every student. He honored his 
 powers by making the utmost of them. They were 
 enriched and disciplined by a varied and extraor- 
 dinary experience in one of the most eventful periods 
 of American history, until, when last March, in the 
 fulness of his commanding faculties, he entered upon 
 the duties of the presidency, he was perhaps at 
 once more able, more learned, and more perfectly 
 furnished for his great office than any of his prede- 
 cessors. 
 
 But intellect and intellectual acquirements alone, 
 are but a small part of true greatness. They were 
 but a small part of him. He possessed an uncom- 
 mon breadth, transparency, and sweetness of nature, 
 which, through all his marvellous career, grew in 
 depth and purity, and remained, to the very end, 
 simple, flawless, and serene as crystal. His genial- 
 ity, charity, fearlessness and modesty were woven 
 together in one shining cord, that bound hosts of 
 friends to him with ties that death will glorify, but 
 cannot sever. He was largely stocked with the best 
 humanity. He could not magnify himself, or think 
 
13 
 
 ill of others. He seemed incapable of hate, though 
 not of indignation. His unselfishness was as con- 
 spicuous as his ability ; and his friendships and pa- 
 triotism were without alloy and strikingly robust. 
 
 The delicacy and fulness of the domestic affections 
 were such in him, that, from the time when, at his 
 inauguration, he turned to kiss first his aged mother, 
 who he insisted should be nearest him in his su- 
 preme honor, down to the time when, from his bed 
 of pain and death, he indited to her with his own 
 hand the last letter he ever wrote ; from the time 
 when, in the crowded, early days of his adminis- 
 tration, he watched by the bedside of his wife, to 
 the long, bitter weeks when she, in turn, maintained 
 her heroic vigil by him, — the whole nation could 
 look hourly, as it did, into the privacy and be only 
 sanctified. 
 
 But not even depth and richness of natural feel- 
 ings and affections are the highest attribute of a true 
 manhood. Beyond his greatness of intellect and 
 greatness of nature, President Garfield was greatest 
 of all in character. This, from the beginning to the 
 end, was the permeating, controlling, and crowning 
 factor of his illustrious personality. His moral pur- 
 pose was deeply rooted. While a mere youth, he 
 bowed himself in joyful submission to God. He 
 became a simple, earnest disciple of Jesus Christ, 
 
u 
 
 and his affiance to the supreme righteousness, truth, 
 and love thus begun was never shaken, but grew 
 stronger and more lustrous at every turn of his noble 
 life, guiding and enlightening all his service, com- 
 manding the reverence of his fellow-men at every 
 step, lifting his name and work stainless above all 
 reproaches, fixing in the hearts of the people prin- 
 ciples that they will not let die, and, through the 
 darkness and misery of the long, closing struggle, 
 irradiating the wide land with the reality, beauty, 
 and power of the Christian faith. All else may fade, 
 but such character is imperishable. It ' is not of 
 man ; yet men know it, and bow before it, as before 
 the finger of God. It is by this that the dead Presi- 
 dent is made immortal. This is his priceless legacy 
 to American youth. 
 
 There was nothing more beautiful in him than the 
 constancy of this early religious faith, and the un- 
 affected simplicity with which he always maintained 
 the confession of it in connection with the somewhat 
 obscure body of Christians with which he first allied 
 himself. This was easy for him ; for religion with 
 him was not a mere decency, sentiment, or theory. It 
 was not divorced from morality, but it was a practical 
 obedience to the divine law, and the inmost substance 
 of his life. With anxious self-scrutiny, he demanded 
 first of all for his actions the approval of God's voice 
 
15 
 
 within him. Over and over, in utterances that thrilled 
 his countrymen, he exalted godliness above gain. 
 When even his native State was so nearly balanced 
 that it needed but a touch to put her on the shame- 
 ful side of dishonest money, and he, asked to accept 
 a nomination to Congress, was cautioned not to lisp a 
 syllable against the rising tide of falsehood, he boldly 
 said : " Much as I value your opinions, I here de- 
 nounce this theory as dishonest, unwise, and unpatri- 
 otic ; and if I were offered a nomination and election 
 for my natural life from this district, on this platform, 
 I should spurn it." So when the same despicable 
 heresy was infecting this Commonwealth, and he, 
 three years ago this autumn, while making his mas- 
 terly argument for honest payment of the public debt, 
 on the platform of Faneuil Hall, was interrupted' 
 with the cry, " It will cost more," he turned on the 
 speaker, and, with the wrathful majesty of one of the 
 old prophets, said : " Yes it costs something some- 
 times to .be honest." Such utterances were but ex- 
 ponents of the deep, strong currents of his life. 
 
 He was a man of sturdy faith in God and grasped 
 the great truths of the divine existence, sovereignty 
 and providence, with the conviction of an old Puritan. 
 In all this he had the simplicity of an earlier genera- 
 tion than his own. Though he was thoroughly read 
 in philosophy, literature, and modern science, no 
 
16 
 
 touch of agnosticism tarnished the quiet strength of 
 his belief in the God of his fathers. This gave him 
 singular power over men. No episode in the history 
 of American eloquence is more thrilling than his 
 hushing a Wall-street mob into self-restraint after 
 the murder of Lincoln, by lifting up his voice, like 
 a second Isaiah, in the mighty words of Scripture, 
 which he ended with that sentence of calm faith, 
 which we have so often lately repeated from his lips : 
 " God reigns, and the government at Washington 
 still lives." 
 
 But this dominant religious character, though so 
 strong, was no ascetic thing. It made him temperate, 
 reverent, supremely industrious, and chivalrous. It 
 colored his whole life with beauty. By it, through 
 his conspicuous position, he has shed undying lustre 
 upon the common relations of life. By it his natural 
 love of men was kindled into unselfish enthusiasm to 
 serve them. It was no narrow, sour thing. It made 
 him like a rock against which men gladly leaned. ' It 
 made him invincible in the shock Qf battle, and 
 amid the still more malign and tempestuous elements 
 of politics. It made him strong to command, but 
 stronger still to suffer. What a peerless example ! 
 Oh, that the youth of this land in these days of greed, 
 and lust of place, and unbelief in God, might take to 
 heart the infinitely precious lessons of this life so 
 
17 
 
 simple, yet so rich in its meaning, and know from the 
 lips of him who, " being dead, yet speaketh," that, be- 
 yond all success and fame, a living purpose in har- 
 mony with the divine law, a character moulded by 
 that of Christ, and filled with his Spirit, are the only 
 enduring treasures ! 
 
 To the tumult of varied thoughts that fills us at this 
 hour, no fit utterance can now be given. We cannot 
 enter into all the meaning of these heavy days. Yet 
 there are some things to which the eloquence of the 
 President's death, more persuasive even than that 
 which he had in life, gives solemn emphasis. 
 
 How empty seem all earthly ambition and station 
 as we stand beside the bier and look at the shrunken 
 remains of him, who, twelve weeks ago yesterday 
 morning, walked forth into the sunlight at the sum- 
 mit of civic honor! As on last Friday afternoon, 
 beneath the vast dome of the Capitol, whose rotunda 
 is crowded with the memorials of the nation's heroic 
 deeds, the stricken wife and children drew nigh, in 
 the silence and emptiness, for a last farewell of their 
 dead, how vain seemed all earthly glory ! All strife, 
 all selfish endeavor for distinction, are subdued and 
 made still at that sight. " What shadows we are, 
 and what shadows we pursue." The bright pageant- 
 ry of earth is darkened; the tumult and discord of 
 
18 
 
 her voices cease ; and, in the stillness, the sonl 
 reaches out to assure herself of God, weaned of time, 
 and hungering for the eternal things. God only is 
 sufficient for us. All that does not take hold on him 
 is vanity of vanities. 
 
 We may be sure that these thoughts often pos- 
 sessed the great man who has passed forever from 
 the realm of human strife. How inexpressibly 
 touching to-day sound his words, when, last spring, 
 worn out with the importunity of clouds of office- 
 seekers, and with constant watching by the sick-bed 
 of his wife, the fear of whose death almost broke 
 his heart, he said, with deep emotion : "I have had, 
 in this trial, glimpses of a better and higher life 
 beyond, which have made this life I am leading here 
 seem utterly barren and worthless." Like the mur- 
 dered Lincoln, he seems to have had some premoni- 
 tions of his great sacrifice, and to have been chastened 
 for it by eternal longings. 
 
 How tender that last interview with his beloved 
 classmates the night before his inauguration, when, 
 looking with confiding love into the true faces of 
 these old comrades, he seemed to cling to them, and 
 dread the morrow, saying, " This honor comes to me 
 unsought. I have never had the presidential fever, 
 not even for a day. I have no feeling of elation in 
 view of the position I am called upon to fill." Had 
 
19 
 
 he glimpses of the coming shadow? These utter- 
 ances can never pass from the memory of the people. 
 It would seem as though the presidency could never 
 again be the object of vulgar ambition to freemen. 
 
 It is no time to speculate confidently upon the hid- 
 den sources or probable results of this great calamity. 
 Yet it is impossible, even in the midst of our sorrow, 
 not to turn, for a moment, to the cause for which, in 
 a just sense, President Garfield has become a martyr. 
 When first he fell, the intelligence and conscience of 
 the people seized instantly the outline of meaning 
 which there was in the terrible deed. Their first 
 impressions have been broadened and deepened by 
 their silent watch for months in that sick chamber. 
 It is safe to say that for years the whole people have 
 not given so much sober thought to public affairs as 
 they have since that fatal 2d of July. When Lin- 
 coln was murdered, the significance of the atrocious 
 act was plain. Then from this, as from hundreds of 
 other pulpits throughout the land, the point was elo- 
 quently urged, which the people knew before, that 
 it was not the assassin's hand alone that held the 
 pistol,„but the accursed spirit of slavery, demanding, 
 as its final victim, in the last pitch of its malice, the 
 father of the people. The issue indeed is not now 
 so distinct. Nevertheless, the same reasoning ap- 
 
20 
 
 plies. As then so now, the people have lost sight of 
 the miserable wretch who dealt the awful blow, in 
 their thoughtful and penitent inquiry as to the causes 
 whose instrument he was. This is to their credit. 
 They do not yet as clearly grasp those causes as they 
 grasped slavery. That was like a cancer which we 
 could put our finger on and had cut out when Lin- 
 coln was killed. The evils to which the man we 
 now mourn was a victim are more complicated, 
 intangible, and hard to be defined, more like a 
 poison in the blood, not tainting one section or one 
 class alone, but vitiating all. 
 
 It is in vain to say that the author of all this stu- 
 pendous mourning was a madman ; that his act origi- 
 nated in himself alone, and has no real bearing upon 
 political life. His madness was the same in kind 
 that for months before had infected thousands of 
 partisans frenzied with a thirst for plunder. We 
 would to-day gladly blot from our history and forever 
 forget the humiliating record of the wretched strife 
 for spoils that filled those miserable weeks of spring, 
 tormented and distracted from the large work of 
 statesmanship, to which he would give himself, the 
 great soul of the man we loved, and heated the air 
 with the insane fever of envy and hate, till the weak 
 brain of the assassin was turned. The hate of one's 
 brother, which is murder, was in the hearts of many 
 
21 
 
 of whom we had a right to expect better things. It 
 found violent expression in their speech. The murder 
 itself was wrought by one dastard's hand. But the 
 connection between the greed for place, which has so 
 long depraved our politics, breeding the vilest pas- 
 sions, and the murderous stroke itself, was not lost 
 sight of by the people : their sense of it has grown 
 with the pain and anxiety of these later weeks. That 
 pistol-shot smote the whole nation with remorse, which 
 forms to-day no small element in our grief. 
 
 We have only to turn back to the eloquent words 
 of the dead President, written scarcely four years ago, 
 and to which his death gives solemn weight, to see 
 how grave these evils seemed to him when, with singu- 
 lar clearness and intensity, he said of the spoils system : 
 " It is hardly possible to state with adequate force the 
 noxious influence of this doctrine. The present sys- 
 tem invades the independence of the executive, and 
 makes him less responsible for the character of his 
 appointments ; it impairs the efficiency of the legisla- 
 tor by diverting him from his proper sphere of duty, 
 and involving him in the intrigues of the aspirants for 
 office ; it degrades the civil service itself by destroying 
 the personal independence of those who are appointed ; 
 it repels from the service those high and manly quali- 
 ties which are so necessary to a pure and efficient ad- 
 ministration ; and finally, it debauches the public 
 
22 
 
 mind by holding up public office as the reward of 
 mere party zeal. To reform this service is one of 
 the highest and most imperative duties of statesman- 
 ship." Alas ! in a sense he never dreamed of he 
 has discharged that duty with superhuman might. 
 Would that he had lived to work this reform ! Yet 
 his death has been in its behalf. 
 
 But we must not stop with any narrow view of 
 the bearings of this great affliction. We must not 
 blame our rulers and legislators alone for the evils of 
 administration that have disgraced us. Whence come 
 the throngs of office-seekers] Whence the beseech- 
 ing, the threats, the intrigue that paralyze the service 
 of those statesmen Avho would do their duty by us? 
 Whence but from us, the people ? We have our share 
 of blame to bear. The base passions which have so 
 defiled our political life have their root and abound in 
 other relations. Our national greed of gain, our selfish 
 strife for patronage, have never received such thrilling 
 rebuke as comes to-day from those dead lips. The 
 motives and character of the murderer shrink to noth- 
 ing when we take this broad view. He shall bear his 
 own awful guilt ; but it is no foolish sentimentality to 
 say that our chief magistrate has fallen for the people ; 
 and all this great sorrow over him is mingled, we 
 would earnestly believe, with a godly repentance and 
 chastening of spirit such as this nation has never ex- 
 
23 
 
 perienced. Oh that the Divine Spirit, through this 
 visitation, may regenerate, not only political life, but 
 the hearts of the whole people ! 
 
 How inscrutable are the ways of the Divine Provi- 
 dence ! It is ours, not to distrust or limit the Almighty 
 but to wait patiently on him. We could not see any 
 light through the thick cloud that fell on us that 
 bright July morning. The President, by extraor- 
 dinary abilities, and a still more extraordinary expe- 
 rience, training, and character, seemed, beyond ques- 
 tion, the fittest man in the whole nation for his post. 
 He had not sought it : it had claimed him. He had 
 been given us, as we believed, in answer to our 
 prayers, through a canvass, both in nomination and 
 election, of extreme delicacy and acrimony. He was 
 at the acme of his splendid powers. He was the 
 pride and stay of an aged mother ; the joy of a most 
 loving wife and children ; the darling of myriads of 
 friends ; and the glory of his college and its alumni, 
 who loved him and were loved by him with a won- 
 derful affection, and who awaited his coming to them 
 with glowing hearts. The whole people — South as 
 much as North — had profound faith in him, and 
 the largest and most hopeful expectations of him. 
 He was, after the confusion and wrangling of the 
 first days, just setting himself with his transcendent 
 gifts, his tireless enthusiasm, and his ever lofty sense 
 
24 
 
 of duty, to his great task. How could he die then ? 
 He whom God's hand had shielded through the fury 
 of battle, how could he perish miserably by the bullet 
 of an assassin 1 Oh, it could not be ! God would 
 spare him. Surely there could be no purpose of good 
 in such an end of this incomparable man. 
 
 And so we prayed. As the flame of life flickered 
 up and down ; as report followed swiftly upon report 
 from morning to night ; as this and that means were 
 tried, always keeping our ear at his bosom ; as the 
 change of place was made, bearing him tenderly in 
 our arms as though he were our own child, the whole 
 people appealed with one impulse to Heaven to spare 
 him. "What else could we- do ? That he had lived so 
 long ; that we needed and loved him so much ; that he 
 had battled so successfully and with such sublime pa- 
 tience and courage against unknown agony so far, 
 made it seem all the harder to give him up ; and men 
 said, — prayerful men dared to say, — that if at last 
 he died they should almost lose faith in prayer. Ah, 
 how little we knew ! How little can we fathom the 
 divine wisdom and love ! He died. The iron entered 
 into the soul of his aged, gray-haired mother. It 
 pierced the heroic bosom of his wife. It smote -to 
 ashes the hopes of friends. It bereaved a whole 
 nation as of its idol. 
 
 Yet God heard. The people's prayer is being 
 
25 
 
 already answered in a fulness of blessing such as we 
 never conceived. So far is faith in God and in his 
 wise and loving providence from being destroyed, that 
 it never was so strong, never was planted in so many 
 hearts. No profane doubts dare break in upon the 
 nation's consciousness that to-day it stands in the 
 divine presence. The dead President's hands have 
 revealed God's face to his countrymen. The thought, 
 the feeling, the conscience, of the people, have been 
 quickened and exalted to a lofty pitch. The cost 
 has been great. No lesser man, no smaller suffering, 
 could have produced this effect. 
 
 The services done by the dead in his life were 
 great. There was well-grounded hope, that, if he 
 were* spared, they would be greater still. But infi- 
 nitely above all he had done, or that it was possible for 
 him to do, are the blessings which, upon the present 
 and coming generations, he has brought by his death. 
 We dreaded, during the months of spring, lest the 
 persistent chicanery, the selfish cunning, the secret 
 malice of place-hunters, might be too much for the 
 very greatness and large-heartedness of this man 
 whom we had chosen, and who was intent upon the 
 realization of the highest plans of good government. 
 But he has vanquished them all now. We hoped he 
 might withstand them. He has shamed and crushed 
 them. We thought his administration would last 
 
26 
 
 four years. It will last for centuries. We hoped 
 that the grand ideas which were born in his thought- 
 ful patriotism and love of duty, and to which his 
 eloquence had given expression, might, through his 
 rule, make some small impression upon the country. 
 They have now, by his death, been written, as by the 
 finger of God, upon the brain and conscience of the 
 people. 
 
 What hath God wrought by the sacrifice of this 
 kingly man ! Surely we cannot go back to the old 
 ways and spirit. Not only have his cabinet and 
 successor been purified by this stroke, as we would 
 fain believe, to accomplish what he himself might 
 never have accomplished, but American youth have 
 received a pattern and an inspiration beyond all 
 price ; every Christian is made a better one ; every 
 citizen is stirred to duty, as by an unseen hand ; 
 every office-bearer is truer ; and the long line of chief 
 magistrates that shall follow him down to the last 
 shall be inspired by his example to nobler things. 
 
 And he himself — oh, glorious destiny! Beyond 
 almost any public man of his time fortunate in his 
 life, he is infinitely more fortunate in his death. 
 From the log cabin in the wilderness, to the zenith 
 of earthly honor, it was one long, shining ascent, till 
 the day he fell ; and then God gave him these weeks 
 of suffering, with a world for his watchers, that his 
 head might be wreathed with fadeless glory. 
 
27 
 
 The principles of the republic of freemen which 
 he enunciated and illustrated shall become the 
 delightful and kindling study of future statesmen. 
 His eloquence shall become the classic of generations 
 yet unborn. His peerless and romantic bravery 
 shall thrill all coming hearts that draw their swords 
 in freedom's cause. Poetry and song shall weave 
 into forms of unfading beauty for the people the 
 simple, homely story of his early struggles, and the 
 pathetic incidents of these later days. Sculpture, 
 Painting, and History with her divine pen, shall 
 write his fame among the few of earth's immortals ; 
 side by side with William the Silent, with Wash- 
 ington, with Lincoln the martyr : but beyond even 
 these, there is an unspeakable pathos in his life, his 
 fate, his sufferings, that shall make his name live 
 with deathless fragrance in the hearts of mankind. 
 
 Oh, yes ; God's ways are best ! Our prayers are 
 more than answered. God has given him back to 
 us indeed forever. Blessed, thrice blessed the peo- 
 ple who can claim this life for their own ; to whom 
 this precious legacy of spotless Christian manhood 
 has fallen, to be for ages to its youth the quench- 
 less inspiration of duty towards God and man. 
 
Franklin Press: 
 
 Rand, Avery, &> Company, 
 
 117 Franklin Street, 
 
 Boston. 
 
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