SPEECH 
 
 OF 
 
 HON. JAMES M. GRAHAM 
 
 OW ILLI^^"OIS 
 
 HOUSE OF IlEPIlESEXTAXn'ES 
 
 FEBRUARY 12, 1913 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 1913 
 
 7S4S3— 1177G 
 

 a OF n. 
 
 JUL 14 1915 
 
SPEECH 
 
 OF 
 
 IIOX. JAMES M. GrvATIAir 
 
 ABKAIIASI LTXCOLX. 
 
 Mr. GIIAIIAM. Mr. Speaker, in tlie grov.'th and devolopment 
 of a nation it would bo diftioult to overestimate tlie value of 
 great exauiijlc.s, of liigb ideals, and one of the compensating 
 benefits we derived from tbc Civil War is the long list of heroic 
 f'.ctious of magiianimous and noble deeds performed by men on 
 either side. 
 
 Never before in the history of the world did the vanquished 
 exhibit greater valor, and never did the victor in a great war 
 treat the vanquished with such splendid generosity as in that 
 titanic struggle. Xo Roman triumph marked the final victory. 
 Napoleon's standards waved at one time or another from the 
 citadels of almost every capital in continental Europe. The 
 Germans took literal possession of conquered Paris, but Grant 
 turned from Richmond at its very gate. No humiliating terms 
 were imposed at the surrender of the great Confederate com- 
 mander. He received the courteous and chivalric treatment 
 which brave men always accord to brave men. Perhaps the 
 greatest moment in the life of the silent commander was when 
 asked at Appomattox what disposition v,-as to be made of the 
 horses of the Confederate cavalry, which were mostly owned 
 by the men who rode them, and he replied in his quiet way, 
 " Let them keep them ; they'll need them for the spring plow- 
 ing." 
 
 Deeds of personal heroism were so numerous that it would be 
 invidious to mention any particular ones. There were, indeed, 
 giants in those days. That awful struggle was in truth a 
 struggle of Titans. But out of it all one great gaunt figure 
 
 784S5— 11T7G o 
 
rises and stands above the others like a cedar of Lebanon, 
 towering beyond his fellows in massive grandeur, unique, alone, 
 for in the whole field of profane history there is neither proto- 
 type nor parallel for Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 I was not always an admirer of President Lincoln. When a 
 boy the first book I rend about the Civil War was Pollard's 
 Lost Cause, which was published in lUchmond before the heat 
 of the conflict had time to cool. 
 
 But later in life a number of circumsiances conspired to 
 attract mo to a study of the career of tlii.s wonderful man, this 
 first American, as Lowell called him. 
 
 For many years I have lived within a stone's throw of his 
 old home in Springfield. He once represented in Congress the 
 district I now have the honor to represent, and the fourteenth of 
 April, the anniversary of his martyrdom, reminds mo of the 
 too frequent recurrence of my own birthday amiiversary. 
 
 I have loved to talk of him with the low men still loft in 
 Springfield who knew him and admired him long before the 
 general public appreciated him. I have marveled at a career 
 whicli far outdistances romance. Many a time have I traveled 
 witli him in spirit over tliat long and weary journey from the 
 Kentucky cabin to the White House. I have tried to under- 
 stand him, to estimate his character, only with this result, tliat 
 as my own vision broadened I saw in liim new strength, now 
 wisdom, new self-control, in'w cleMicuts of greatness, till lie 
 became to me, as Stanton sjiid of him, "the most perfect ruler 
 of men the world had ever seen," and I am forced to the con- 
 clusion tliat ill the i)rovidence of (!od he was destined to be 
 the savior of the Republic, the preserver of government of the 
 people, by the i)'>oplt'. for the peo])le. [.\pplause.] 
 
 Having siiid this inm-li, you ;ire not surprised to lu'iir nie s;iy 
 tliat 1 rt'-aiil Aliraham l,iii<-oln as one of tlu- world's greatest 
 men. 
 
 What is the real test of greatness? How is greatness to be 
 weighed or measured? Ry what method is it to b»> determined V 
 
 Ha nian'.s greatness is to be measured liy the serviee he 
 rendered his fellow mi-n, tlion indeed w:is Lincoln gre;\t. 
 78-1S5 -11770 
 
If wo accept tlio criterion that he that ruloth his own spirit 
 is greater than he that taketh a city, still was Lincoln a great 
 man. 
 
 If tlie ability to recognize and nntlerstand right principles 
 and to stand for them and stand by them, in gloom and defeat 
 as Avell as in snnshiue and victory, is a sign of greatness, still 
 was Lincoln great. 
 
 If absolnte and abiding faith in the ultimate triumph of that 
 which is right because it is right is a sign of greatness, ho 
 had it. 
 
 If the broadest charity, the greatest magnanimity, the most 
 complete absence of the spirit of resentment is an evidence of 
 greatness, then was Lincoln superlatively great. 
 
 If a deep, strong, boundless, active, and abiding sympathy 
 for all those who labor and are heavy laden is an evidence of 
 greatness, he had it in a degree approached by few other human 
 beings. 
 
 Unbounded courage, unwavering determination, unlimited ca- 
 pacity to work and to suffer are essentials of greatness. Lincoln 
 had them all in a remarkable degree. 
 
 Nor were these admirable qualities marred by any vice or 
 weakness, barring a supposed weakness resulting from his 
 excessive human sympathy. 
 
 He was absolutely unselfish; he had in him no element of 
 cupidity; he was incapable of the feeling of mere revenge, 
 and his greatest ambition was to be right and to be of service 
 to his country and to humanity. 
 
 "Who can be named who had all these qualities in such 
 degree as this rail maker of the Sangamon? If we are to 
 measure greatness by the power to accomplish, by the conquest 
 of obstacles, by difficulties overcome, whom can you name fit 
 to be compared with this untaught and unaided child of the 
 forest and the prairie? 
 
 The so-called "ladder of fame" furnishes us with at least 
 a figure of speech by which we are wont to measure and com- 
 pare the achievements of the great. Let me use that rhetorical 
 figure for the purpose of a brief comparison between Lincoln 
 78iS5— 11776 
 
6 
 
 and some of tbe great ones of the eartli whose names fill the 
 pages of the histories and whose fame comes ringing down the 
 ages. 
 
 I will not attempt more than mere suggestion, but I invite 
 you at your leisure to go into the details and ascertain what 
 each did for himself and what others did for him ; where each 
 began his individual career of accomplishment and where he 
 ended it ; in other words, how far he traveled, through his own 
 efforts, on this strenuous and toilsome journey up fame's ladder. 
 
 Let me illustrate what I mean by citing just a few of tha 
 names of the world's great which at once occur to anyone — 
 Alexander, Ctesar, Charlemagne, Napoleon. 
 
 Alexander was the son of a great monarch and heir to a 
 kingdom. lie had all the advantages position could give. lie 
 had as his private tutor the philosopher Ai'istotle, one of the 
 greatest intellects the world has known. At the age of 20 hi.s 
 father's death placed him on the throne of Macodon. Thus, 
 without any si^ecial peisonal elTurf, he found himself, before 
 he reached his majorily, far up fame's ladder. 
 
 Cicsar was of patrician birth and had bulb wealth and 
 family influence behind him. lie enjoyed tbe beuolit of tbe 
 best schools, and official preferment awaited his desire. His 
 family connection and social position enabled him to begin 
 life well up fame's ladder. 
 
 Charlemagne was a worthy descendent of the famous Charles 
 Martel, a King of France. He was, in truth, a great enii»ire 
 builder, but he, too, was lioiii well up tbe ladder of fanie. 
 
 And Napoleon, that wonderful man of destiny, was the son 
 of a general, a graduate of one of the greatest nulitary schools 
 of the time. Others prepared biiii I'oi- tlK> opjiortunity he .sei7-ed 
 so promiilly ami utilized so conii)lelel3'. 
 
 Nor is our own l.md without illustrations. Washington bad 
 all tbi' advantages that weallb and station could givo, and 
 Jefferson added to the.se advantages a thorough college training. 
 
 So that all these, through in!ierit«'d :idvant;ige, hfji\n th»ir 
 life work well uj) fame's laddt-r. r.nt wliat of Lincoln V What 
 udviintagc I'T hiilli or weallb or cnvironnicnl lia<l bcV Abso- 
 78185 11T7G 
 
lately uoue. lie was borii ou the fi-outier in a log cabin 11 feet 
 square. His parents were poor, shiftless, and ambitionless, 
 and the father tried hard to repress his sou's desire for knowl- 
 edge. He lived till manhood amid the poorest and most de- 
 pressing surroundings, away from schools and schoolmasters, 
 enjoying only eight meager mouths of school opportunity in his 
 entire life. 
 
 He did not start in the race halfway up fame's ladder, not 
 even withhi sight of it. He had to clear away the brush and 
 traverse the swamps and overcome innumerable difficulties to 
 get within view of it; and these difficulties he overcame, not 
 because of his surroundings, but in spite of them, till he finally 
 planted his feet on the lowest round and, without inilueuce or 
 assistance, began the toilsome ascent. 
 
 And who will say that any of those favored sons of fortune 
 climbed higher than he? 
 
 If my theory be sound, if we are to measure the greatness of 
 the man by the distance covered from start to finish in life's 
 journey, whom can you recall who began so low, and, of his 
 own strength, rose as high as Abraham Lincoln? 
 
 The opinion is quite too prevalent that Lincoln's greatness 
 developed after his election to the Presidency. That is a mis- 
 take. The truth is he was always great, but it was, of course, 
 after bis election that the people were convinced of his great- 
 ness. 
 
 While he was fond of office and was somewhat persistent iu 
 seeking it, he never sacrificed, or even modified, his opinions 
 iu order to gain it. 
 
 He was a real loader of public opinion; he never changed 
 his views to be in accord with that opinion. When the pub- 
 lic differed from him he set to work to win the public to his 
 view. 
 
 As early as 1S37 he filed a written protest against slavery in 
 the Illinois Legislature, of which he was then a member, being 
 joined by but one other member. Nothing could at that time 
 be more unpopular, as he well knew. 
 78483—11770 
 
8 
 
 Just prior to tho (Icbate witli Doiis1;ts, when lie prcparctl tlie 
 Springfield speech in Avhich he usetl the illustration that " a house 
 divided against itself can not stand " he submitted it to a number 
 of his pergonal and political friends and admirers. They were 
 almost stunned at his rashness in using this biblical quotation. 
 They felt that it would kill him politically, but in spite of pro- 
 test, regardless of results, he used it, and time has surely vindi- 
 cated his sagacity and his courage. Tho men who knew him in 
 those days saj' that it was habitual with him to draw out the 
 views of others on political subjects while he withheld his 
 own. Even in those days he had supreme confidence in himself. 
 But it was not mere pride of opinion that made him so self- 
 confident, for he did not hesitate to adopt the views of others 
 wlien it seemed wise to do so. 
 
 His supreme self-confideace and his intense patriotism are 
 evidenced by his choice of a Cabinet. A smaller or less patriotic 
 man would have hesitated to choose as his adviser one who 
 almost held him in contempt or one who was generally sup- 
 posed to so far outclass him as to cast him altogether in the 
 shade. 
 
 I ne\er hoard of anyone who so grievously offended Linc<iln 
 as did Mr. Stanton, but that did not prevent him from making 
 Stanton Secretary of War. 
 
 Few other men could have borne the conduct of Secretary 
 Chase as Lincoln did under intolerable provocation, but he real- 
 ized Chase's value to the country and made all else subservient 
 to that ; and later, in spite of his disloyalty to his chief, Lincoln 
 appointed him to the highest place within his gift — Chief Jus- 
 tice of the Supreme Court. He placed at the head of Ids Cabi- 
 net his chief rival for the presidential nomination, Mr. Seward, 
 and quietly tolerated Seward's assumption of superiority, confi- 
 dent that lime would determine their relative iwsitious, as 
 Indeed It soon did to tlie Secretary's complete discomfiture. Lin- 
 coln felt Intuitively that he had nothing to fear from comparison 
 with any man. He was, therefore, entirely devoid of envy or 
 ji'alousy, first, because of this supreme and al)idirjg confidence 
 78185—11770 
 
9 
 
 iu liimself, and, secoml, because lie was ready at any time to 
 adopt the views of others if tliey seemed sounder than his 
 own. 
 
 The breadth and depth of Lincohi's charity passes ordinary 
 comprehension. The sight of misery in man or beast touched 
 him profoundly. 
 
 I believe he spoke with absolute sincerity and out of the full- 
 ness of his great heart when in his second inaugural he urged 
 Congress to proceed " wifii malice toward none, with charity for 
 all," 
 
 His patience, his justice, his honesty, his sincerity conquered 
 everyone who really knew him. Douglas, his rival iu love, in 
 the liiw, aud in politics, pronounced him the honestest man 
 he ever knew. Wendell Phillips, who bitterly assailed him be- 
 cause he was not an abolitionist, finally declared, that he was 
 " God given, God led, and God sustained." Seward, who at first 
 thought lightly of him, lived to refer to him as " a man of des- 
 tiny with character made and molded by divine power to save 
 a nation," and Stanton, whose treatment of him when they 
 first met was almost contemptuous, truly said, as the gentle 
 spirit left the body, " Now he belongs to the ages." The rail 
 splitter, the flatboat hand, had conquered them all, and the con- 
 quest was complete and enduring. [Applause.] 
 
 Our country has been abundantly blest in the fact that it owes 
 everything to the common man, nothing to aristocracy or royalty. 
 What an array of names — Columbus, Washington, Franklin, 
 Jefiferson, Jackson, Lincoln — all springing from the common peo- 
 ple, but none of them quite so near the common clay as this 
 child of the frontier, this — 
 
 Kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man, 
 Sagacious, patient, di-eading praise, not blame, 
 New birth of our new soil, this first American. 
 
 Truly docs the jwet say he was new birth of our new soil. 
 Generations separated him from the ways and the amenities of 
 784S5— 11776 
 
10 
 
 cultivated society. He was so close to nature .tliat, as anothei" 
 
 poet well saj-s of liiui : 
 
 The color of (he groinvl wns in liim— Iho rod earth ; 
 
 The taug aud odor of the primal things; 
 
 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 tlic rain that loves all loaves; 
 
 The pity of the mow that hides all scars; 
 
 The loving kindness of the wayside well ; 
 
 The tolerance aud equity of light that gives as freely lo 
 
 The shrinking weed as to the great oak flaring in the wind — ■ 
 
 To the grave's low mound as to the Matterhorn 
 
 That shoulders out the sky. 
 
 And when the step of Earthquake shook the house, 
 Wrenching the rafters from their ancient hold. 
 He held the ridgepole up and spiked again 
 The rafters of the Home. lie held his place — 
 Held the long purpose like a growing tree — 
 Held on through hlamo and faltered not at praise. 
 And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down 
 As when a kingly cedar green with houghs 
 Goes down with a great shout upon the hill, 
 And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln was Iho very iucaruatiou of the spirit of 
 democracy, of the rule of the common people. His thoughts 
 were their thoughts, their joys were his joys, and their sorrows 
 were his, too. His sad, deep-furrowed face was so marked with 
 melancholy that he seemed to bear all the burdens of his people. 
 
 What a man, and what a career ! Just look for a moment 
 with the eyes of your imagiuation ami bi^hold this awkward, 
 barefoot, backwoods boy at ten trying to do a man's part in tlio 
 woods with his ax ; living in a forest hut entirely open on one side ; 
 at night dragging his tired frame (o his attic nest of loaves by 
 climbing on pegs driven into the logs, to fnul himself ere morn- 
 ing sU>eping luuler a coverlet of snow; wallclng miles to borrow 
 n bool; ;iii(i lying prone on the Hour to read it by tlie light of 
 the blazing pine knots; wading waist deep through the wintry 
 waters of a creek to rescue a worlhle.cs dog; guiding a ilatl)o:it 
 down llic .Mississippi; malting rails to fence the lillle farm on 
 the Sangamon for his father and stepmother before leaxiiig 
 Iheiu to malio his own way in the world, before starling out at 
 twenty-two on the (inest for the road leading t<» lliat lignialive 
 78-185-11770 
 
11 
 
 ladder on wliicli be was destined to climb so bigb. Again see 
 bim start from Springfield on a flatboat trip to New Orleans; 
 see bim find a way to extricate tbe stranded boat wben older 
 and more experienced men fail, just as later on, in affairs of 
 gi'eater moment, be always found a way; see bim as grocer's 
 clerk treating all witb rigid, scrupulous bcnesty, walking tbree 
 miles before breakfast to bring to a customer tbe modicum of 
 tea wbicb tbe accidental use of a wrong weigbt deprived ber 
 of tbe evening before ; see bim postmaster, witb tbe mail in bis 
 bat, and see bim laying away at tbe end of bis term tbe very 
 pennies wbicb belonged to tbe Government, to be produced years 
 afterwards when called on for a settlement. Step by step see 
 him progress on tbe toilsome way, now storekeeper, now sur- 
 veyor, soldier, politician, and lawyer, but ever and always faith- 
 ful student, good citizen, and honest man. [Applause.] 
 
 Then see bim arrive in Springfield at tbe age of twenty-eight, 
 bringing with bim little credit, and less money, and riding a 
 borrowed horse. See him gradually rise, gaining steadily in 
 public estimation. See bim in tbe State legislature and in Con- 
 gress, and wben the question of slavery extension becomes acute 
 see bim challenge for a joint discussion bis opponent for sena- 
 torial honors, the ablest debater of his day, Stephen A. Douglas, 
 the Little Giant of the Prairie State. TTie whole civilized world 
 knows the result of that debate. 
 
 Like a skillful general Lincoln so directed tbe course of tbe 
 contest that be lost a skirmish in order to win a battle. He was 
 beaten for the Senator ship only to gain the Presidency. 
 
 On May 18, 1S60, he v/as nominated by the national convention 
 of his party at Chicago, and duly elected in November. On the 
 11th of the following February he departed from his Springfield 
 home never to return alive. 
 
 I can see in imagination tbe parting scene. In a pouring rain 
 
 he stood bareheaded on the coach platform at the old Wabash 
 
 depot and bade good-by to bis friends and neighbors. Listen to 
 
 him : 
 
 My friends, no one not in my situation can appreciate ray fooling 
 of sadness at this parting. To this place and the kindness of these 
 people I owe everything. Kcre I have lived a quarter of a century, and 
 78485—11776 
 
12 
 
 havo passed from a young man to an old man. Ilerc my cliildivn wore 
 boiD, and one is buried. I now leave, not knowing when or wlietlier 
 ever I may return, with a task before me greater than that which 
 rested upon Washington. Without the assistance of that Divine Being 
 wlso ever attended him I can not succeed. With that assi.«lnnce I can 
 not fail. Trusting in llim who can go with me and remain with you 
 and be everywhere for good, let us conlidently .hope that all will yet 
 be well. To His car-j commeudiug you, as I hopo in your juiijcrs you 
 will commend mr, I bid you an afiLeciiouate farev.cll. 
 
 IAiiiil:uiS:-e.] 
 
 How toiicliiug, how sincere, how full of faith iu God. AiuT 
 
 the lanj,'uage itself — how rhythmic, how direct, how simiile it is. 
 
 Where did this man, who scarcely entered the schoolhouse and 
 
 knew not the college or tlic university, get this magnificent, 
 
 this perfect couunaud of Uiuguage? How and where and when 
 
 did he master that elusive thing called style so thoroughly that 
 
 some of his letters and speeches adorn the walls of groat 
 
 institutions of learning as specimens of perfect English? Let 
 
 me read to j'ou his letter to Mr.s. Bixley, vihich both graces and 
 
 adorns a wall of Oxford Uuivor.sily as a si)CLiuieu of perfect 
 
 composition : 
 
 Dbau Madam : I have been shown iu the files rif the War Department 
 a statement of the adjutant general of Massachusetts that you are the 
 mother of five sous who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I 
 feel how v.-eak and fruitless must bo any words of mine wliich should 
 nttemiit to beguile you from a loss so overwhelming, but I can not re- 
 frain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the 
 thanks of the IJepublic they died to save. I pray our heavenly rather 
 may a.ssuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the 
 cherished memory of (he loved and lost and the solemn pride that must 
 be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice on the altar of freedom. 
 
 lAi.plaiise.] 
 
 Ills Cetlysburg addicts is conceded to be the be.<5t short 
 speech in the language, but short as it is and excellent as it is, 
 I shall not now ask you to listen to it. Intlecd. were I lo in- 
 dulge in quoting si)eclincns of his eloquence. I should find ni> 
 rea.sonable slopping place. I can uol, however, resist the im- 
 pulse lo quote llic proi)hecy which concludes his lirst JMaugural: 
 
 I nm loath to clo.sc. Wo are not enemies. l)ut friends. We must not 
 l)e enemies. Though' passion may have strained, it must not break our 
 bontls of niri-ctidii. The mystic chords of memory, stretching froui every 
 ballh- thid .•ind patriot gi-ave to every living heart and licarlliston<' all 
 over this bro.ul land, will yet swell the clioru.s of the Inlon, when 
 Ogain touched, as surely Ihcy will be, by the better angels of our n.ilure. 
 
 [Applause.] 
 7SIS5 11770 
 
13 
 
 And may I not also recite the hymn with which he closes his 
 
 second inaugural? — ■ 
 
 With malice toward none, with charity for all ; with firmness in the 
 right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work 
 we are in ; to bind up the Nation's wounds ; to care for him who shall 
 have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan — to do all 
 things which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among 
 ourselves and with all nations. 
 
 [Applause.] 
 
 What rhythm, what majesty, what patriotism I 
 
 If we did not knov>' that his spare moments from boyhood up 
 were given to the study of the Bible and to the companionsiiip 
 of ul3sop aud Bunyan and Defoe and Burns and Shakespeare, 
 we might well exclaim as did the doctors aud the scribes of old 
 coucerniug Him who spake as man never spake, " Whence hath 
 this man letters, having never learned?" But we know that 
 his mastery of his native tongue, the only one he knew, did not 
 come unsought. It was acquired by persi-steut and resolute 
 effort, and was tinged and tempered by the tenderness of a 
 nature filled with love for God and man and country- It re- 
 flected his patience, his fortitude, his fidelity, his absolute fair- 
 ness and sense of justice, as well as his courage, sincerity, 
 and resolution. In short, with him, as with eA'ery master of dic- 
 tion, the style bespoke the man. 
 
 Almost fortj'-seveu years have come and gone since the fateful 
 night -nhen the hand of a poor deluded lunatic, without a mo- 
 ment's notice or a word of warning, struck him down. What a 
 shock he ga^e the world and what a cruel wound he thus inflicted 
 on the torn and bleeding Southland ! By that blow he struck 
 down the only man who had the strength and the will to stay 
 the rutliless hands of those greedy and unscrupulous adventurers 
 who, at the close of the vrar, promptly proceeded to plunder the 
 stricken South. I give it as the opinion of his lifelong friends 
 in Springfield that Lincoln never lost his love and sympathy 
 for his native Southland, and that had he lived he would never 
 have permitted the reign of robbery and ruin which that fair 
 land experienced in reconstruction days. The hand, the only 
 hand, which had the strength to save them was paralyzetl in 
 death by one who vainly imagined he was aiding their cause. 
 784S3— 1177G 
 
14 
 
 As for Lincoln, It was far beyond tlie poor power of tlio as- 
 sassin to rob him of one tittle of his fame. Indeed, he added 
 the one thing needed, if anything v/ere needed, to enshrine his 
 memory forever in the hearts of the American people, and that 
 was the martyr's crown. And for this he chose, most oppor- 
 tunely, the moment when his victim had reached the summit, 
 nay, the very zenith of his fame. 
 
 The war was practicallj' over. The dove of peace hovered 
 over the land. The Union was saved. Government of the peo- 
 ple, by the people, and for the people had not perished from the 
 earth. The ship of state was safe at anchor. The shackles 
 were struck from the limbs of four million slaves. And the peo- 
 ple gave Lincoln credit for it ail. The world was filled with the 
 sound of his pruises. His feet were on the topmost round of 
 fame's ladder. Millions of his countryinon would cheerfully 
 have laid down their lives to save his life. There was little 
 glory left for him to gain, and thou, lest ho trip and stuuiblo, 
 fate closed and seale<l the splendid record. 
 
 With what draiinitic force Walt Whiluinu tolls the patlietic 
 
 story : 
 
 O Captain! my Captain I our fearful (rip is won. 
 The sliip has woathorcd every ivack, flie prize wo .sought is won. 
 The port is near, tlie bolls I hear, the people all exultini;. 
 lUit Uh heart ! lieart I heart ! 
 Oh tlio bleedinK drops of red, 
 
 Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
 Fallen cold and dead. 
 
 O Captain! my Captain! rise up and liear (he hells; 
 Ilisc up — for you tlie 11a;; is flun;; — for yon tlie l>ui;le thrills, 
 Tor you houtjuets and ribboned wreaths — for you the shore's aerowdinjj, 
 l'"or you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; 
 Here Captain! dear father! 
 Q'his arm beneath your head ! 
 
 It is some dream that on the dock 
 You've fallen cold and dead. 
 
 My captain does not answer, his lips are pale anil still. 
 My father does not feel niy arm, he has no pulse nor will. 
 The ship Is anchored safe and sound, lis voyage clused and done, 
 l'"rom fearful trip (ho victor ship con>es In with object won ! 
 KxuK, Oh, shores, and rins. Oh, bells I 
 Dut 1, with mournful (r>'ail. 
 Walk (he d><k my Cajilaln ii'S 
 l''allen cold and ilead. 
 
 784S5— U770 
 
15 
 
 111 the very licydny of bis fame lie fell nt llio pop( of dnty ; ami 
 so wc shall ahvays lliink of him as he was at his best, not a 
 single shadow, not a single blur, not a single flaw in the picture. 
 
 As the years file slowly past, as wo get fiirlher and further 
 away from hia time and see him in clearer and truer perspec- 
 tive, his splendid moral and intellectual proportions, his patience, 
 his fidelity, his sense of justice, his foresight, his charity, his 
 patriotism — in a word his greatness — become more and more 
 apparent. 
 
 In a spirit of patriotic devotion, imbued with a feeling of 
 profound gratitude for the blessing of a reunited country under 
 the old flag, let us reverently bless God that He vouchsafed us 
 such a captain to direct the ship of state at such a time. [Pro- 
 longed applause.] 
 78485—11770 
 
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