Chapter III: Introduction: The Poetic Spirit of Lincoln (2)

O, honest face, which all men knew,
O, tender heart, but known to few--
O, wonder of the age,
Cut off by tragic rage.

By Eastman Johnson]

James Whitcomb Riley was born in Greenfield, Indiana, about 1852. He was engaged in various pursuits until 1875, when he began to contribute verses of poetry to local papers in the Western district which gained wide popularity for him. His published works in dialect and his serious poems have also proved very popular.

A PEACEFUL LIFE

(LINCOLN)

A peaceful life;--just toil and rest--
All his desire;--
To read the books he liked the best
Beside the cabin fire.
God's word and man's;--to peer sometimes
Above the page, in smoldering gleams,
And catch, like far heroic rhymes,
The onmarch of his dreams.

A peaceful life;--to hear the low
Of pastured herds,
Or woodman's axe that, blow on blow,
Fell sweet as rhythmic words.
And yet there stirred within his breast
A faithful pulse, that, like a roll
Of drums, made high above his rest
A tumult in his soul.

A peaceful life!--They hailed him even
As One was hailed
Whose open palms were nailed toward Heaven
When prayers nor aught availed.
And lo, he paid the selfsame price
To lull a nation's awful strife
And will us, through the sacrifice
Of self, his peaceful life.

William Wilberforce Newton, born in Alleghany, Pennsylvania, March, 1836. Was graduated at Franklin and Marshall College in 1853. Studied law, and was admitted to the bar in 1867. He served as Captain and Assistant Adjutant General of U. S. Volunteers in 1861-5; was Editor of the _Philadelphia Press_ and President of the "Press" Publishing Co., from 1867 till 1878. He is the author of _Vignettes of Travel_ and has been largely engaged in railway building in Mexico.

LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE

Saw you in his boyhood days
O'er Kentucky's prairies;
Bending to the settler's ways
Yon poor youth whom now we praise--
Romance like the fairies?
Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
Leader of his people.

Saw you in the days of youth
By the candle's flaring:
Lincoln searching for the truth,
Splitting rails to gain, forsooth,
Knowledge for the daring?
Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
Leader of his people.

Saw you in his manhood's prime
Like a star resplendent,
Him we praise with measured rhyme
Waiting for the coming time
With a faith transcendent?
Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
Leader of his people.

Saw you in the hour of strife
When fierce war was raging,
Him who gave the slaves a life
Full and rich with freedom rife,
All his powers engaging?
Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
Leader of his people.

Saw you when the war was done
(Such is Lincoln's story)
Him whose strength the strife had won
Sinking like the setting sun
Crowned with human glory?
Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
Leader of his people.

Saw you in our country's roll
Midst her saints and sages,
Lincoln's name upon the scroll--
Standing at the topmost goal
On the nation's pages?
Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
Leader of his people.

Hero! Yes! We know thy fame;
It will live forever!
Thou to us art still the same;
Great the glory of thy name,
Great thy strong endeavor!
Hero! Hero! Sent from God!
Leader of his people.

From an Ambrotype, taken in 1856]

"The charm which invested the life on the Eighth Circuit in the mind and fancy of Mr. Lincoln yet lingered there, even in the most responsible and glorious days of his administration; over and over again has the great President stolen an hour ... from his life of anxious care to live over again those bygone exhilarating and halcyon days ... with Sweet or me."--Henry C. Whitney in his _Life of Lincoln_.

Wilbur Hazelton Smith was born in the town of Mansfield, New York, March 28, 1860. His early education was obtained from the district school and he began teaching at the age of sixteen. After completing an academic course he went to Cornell University from which he was graduated with the degree of A.B. in 1885.

He at once became a teacher and after a few years started the first Current Topic paper in the state, _The Educator_. Later he edited a teachers' paper, _The World's Review_. Perhaps he is best known as publisher of the _Regents' Review Books_ used in nearly every school in the United States. His death occurred October 19, 1913.

LINCOLN

Unlearned in the cant and quip of schools,
Uncouth, if only city ways refine;
Ungodly, if 'tis creeds that make divine;
In station poor, as judged by human rules,
And yet a giant towering o'er them all;
Clean, strong in mind, just, merciful, sublime;
The noblest product of the age and time,
Invoked of God in answer to men's call.

O simple world, and will you ever learn,
Schools can but guide, they cannot mind create?
'Neath roughest rock the choicest treasures wait;
In meanest forms we priceless gems discern;
Nor time, nor age, condition, rank nor birth,
Can hide the truly noble of the earth.

This chair was used by Mr. Lincoln in his law office at Springfield, Illinois, where, before leaving for the City of Washington after his election as President, he wrote his Inaugural Address and formed his Cabinet, frequently conferring with his twenty-year law partner, William H. Herndon, on such matters, and adopting changes as suggested if he considered them advisable. It was presented to O. H. Oldroyd while living in the Lincoln Homestead, Springfield, by Mr. Herndon, March 18, 1886.

James Riley was born in the hamlet of Tang, one mile from the town of Ballymahon, County Longford, Ireland, and two miles from Lissoy, County Westmeath, the home of Oliver Goldsmith--on the road between the two--August 15, 1848. Published _Poems_, 1888; _Songs of Two Peoples_, 1898, and _Christy of Rathglin_, a novel, in 1907. His poem _The American Flag_, has been rated often as the best poem written to our banner. Four lines on the loss of the Titanic brought from Captain Rostron words in which he said: "With such praise one feels on a higher plane, and must keep so, to be worthy of continuance."

LINCOLN IN HIS OFFICE CHAIR

High-browed, rugged, and swarthy;
A picture of pain and care;
A lawyer sat with his greatest brief,
High in his office chair.

His Country was to him client!
Futurity his ward!
And he must plead 'fore Fate's high court,
With prayer, and pen, and sword.

Elected, by his people!
His heart and theirs, one beat!
He sees the storm-clouds gather;
The waves dash at his feet!

Gloom upon land and water!
The Flag no more in the sun!
Lights from the South-line flickering,
And--dying--one--by one!

November's winds wild shrieking!
Night--closed, on a Union rent!
And still the lawyer sat dreaming
Of its once bright firmament.

Then, '61! Dark! Silent!
Only the calling word
Of Anderson at Sumter
The lawyer, writing, heard.

Writing the Message that ever
Shall live in the hearts of men;
With cannon to cannon fronting,
The lawyer held the pen.

Only thinking of Country
And the work that must be done;
Nature made in roughest mold
Her favored, fated son.

He wrote while the world was waiting
Great Freedom's final test.
Should, or should not Democracy
Be planted in the West?

Should Liberty at last survive
And man look straight on man?
Law, in its round, its strength and might
Be timed unto sense and plan?

He, in his chair there sitting,
Had all these things for thought.
Now, the Vote unrecognized,
Must battles wild be fought?

Alone the Chair is standing,
To remind the Land of the time
When the Slaver's heart, all passion,
He planned, and pursued his crime!

As he rushed Disunion's order,
On, on from State to State!
And the Pen talked loud down the Message,
And bided the Land to wait.

Photograph from an Ambrotype, by Gilmer, Illinois, 1858]

Elizabeth Porter Gould, born June 8, 1848, died July 28, 1906. Essayist, lecturer and author; an early inspirer of woman's clubs and the pioneer of the _Current Events_ and _Topics_ classes in Boston and vicinity; an officer in several educational societies and honorary member of the Webster Historical Society, Castilian Club and other clubs where she had read many historical papers of great research and given many practical suggestions. Among her published works are _Gems From Walt Whitman_, _Anne Gilchrist and Walt Whitman_, _Ezekial Cheever, Schoolmaster_, _John Adams and Daniel Webster as Schoolmasters_, _A Pioneer Doctor_, _One's Self I Sing_ and _The Brownings and America_. She had great energy and force of character, and a capacity for friendship which was a source of great happiness to her and endeared her to all.

THE VOICE OF LINCOLN

In life's great symphony,
Above the seeming discord and the pain,
A master-voice is ever singing, singing,
The plan of God to men.

In young America's song,
As threatening tumult pierced the tensioned air,
The voice of Lincoln over all was singing
The love of brother-man.

And still his voice is heard;
'Twill pierce the din of strife and mystery,
Till master-voices cease their singing, singing,
In life's great symphony.

From an Ambrotype taken at Beardstown, Ill., 1858]

His friends advised Lincoln to press his opponent on the Dred Scott decision (of the United States Supreme Court permitting slavery in the Territories), as Douglas would accept it, but argue for nullifying it by anti-slavery legislation in the territorial assemblies, and this would satisfy the people of Illinois, and elect him Senator. "All right," said Lincoln, "then that kills him in 1860. I am gunning for larger game."

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps was born in Andover, Massachusetts, on August 13, 1844. Educated at Andover. Her literary career began at the age of thirteen with contributions to the newspapers. The earlier years of her life were devoted to Christian labors among the poor families in Andover, but failing health finally prevented her from carrying on her labors along that line, and kept her within her study, but her sympathy was always enlisted in the reformatory questions of the day. _The Gates Ajar_ proved very popular, as did also her many juvenile books. She wrote this poem for the Lincoln Memorial Album in 1882. She died January 29, 1911.

THE THOUGHTS OF LINCOLN

The angels of your thoughts are climbing still
The shining ladder of his fame,
And have not reached the top, nor ever will,
While this low life pronounces his high name.

But yonder, where they dream, or dare, or do,
The "good" or "great" beyond our reach,
To talk of him must make old language new
In heavenly, as it did in human, speech.

By Leonard W. Volk]

Mr. Lincoln was engaged in trying a case in the United States Court at Chicago, Illinois, in April, 1860, and Leonard W. Volk, the sculptor, called upon him and said: "I would like to have you sit to me for your bust." "I will, Mr. Volk," replied Lincoln. This was the first time that Lincoln sat to an artist for the reproduction of his physique in this manner. Previous to this he had posed only for daguerreotypes or for photographs.

Richard Watson Gilder was born in Bordentown, New Jersey, February 8, 1844, and was educated at his father's school. He enlisted in Landis' Philadelphia Battery for the emergency call in the campaign of 1863, when the Confederate forces invaded Pennsylvania. Later he was editor of a number of magazines and upon the death of J. G. Holland he was made associate editor of the _Century_. At the age of twenty-six he had attained high literary standing. His poems are published in five volumes. He rendered valuable service in tenement-house reform over the country. He died on the 18th day of November, 1909.

ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN

This bronze doth keep the very form and mold
Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he:
That brow all wisdom, all benignity;
That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold
Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold;
That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea
For storms to beat on; the lone agony
Those silent, patient lips too well foretold.
Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men
As might some prophet of the elder day--
Brooding above the tempest and the fray
With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken.
A power was his beyond the touch of art
Or armed strength--his pure and mighty heart.

The Saturday after the nomination of Mr. Lincoln for President of the United States, the Committee appointed to inform him of the said nomination arrived in Springfield and performed this duty in the evening at his home.

The cast of his hand was made the next morning by Mr. Leonard W. Volk. While the sculptor was making the cast of his left hand, Lincoln called his attention to a scar on his thumb. "You have heard me called the 'rail-splitter' haven't you?" he said, "Well, I used to split rails when I was a young man, and one day, while sharpening a wedge on a log, the axe glanced and nearly took off my thumb."

Edmund Clarence Stedman was born in Hartford, Connecticut, on the 8th of October, 1833. He entered Yale College at the age of sixteen and distinguished himself in Greek and English Composition. He was the editor of several papers in Connecticut and in 1856 removed to New York City--a larger field for his literary abilities. He was a contributor to _Vanity Fair_, _Putnam's Monthly_, _Harper's Magazine_ and other periodicals. His poems: _The Diamond Wedding_, _How Old John Brown Took Harper's Ferry_, _The Ballad of Lager-Bier_, gave him some reputation. He was war-correspondent for the _World_ during the early campaigns of the Army of the Potomac from the Headquarters of General Irwin McDowell and General B. McClellan. He died in 1908.

THE HAND OF LINCOLN

Look on this cast, and know the hand
That bore a nation in its hold;
From this mute witness understand
What Lincoln was--how large of mold.

The man who sped the woodman's team,
And deepest sunk the plowman's share,
And pushed the laden raft astream,
Of fate before him unaware.

This was the hand that knew to swing
The axe--since thus would Freedom train
Her son--and made the forest ring,
And drove the wedge and toiled amain.

Firm hand that loftier office took,
A conscious leader's will obeyed,
And, when men sought his word and look,
With steadfast might the gathering swayed.

No courtier's, toying with a sword,
Nor minstrel's, laid across a lute;
Chiefs, uplifted to the Lord
When all the kings of earth are mute!

The hand of Anak, sinewed strong,
The fingers that on greatness clutch,
Yet lo! the marks their lines along
Of one who strove and suffered much.

For here in mottled cord and vein
I trace the varying chart of years,
I know the troubled heart, the strain,
The weight of Atlas--and the tears.

Again I see the patient brow
That palm erewhile was wont to press;
And now 'tis furrowed deep, and now
Made smooth with hope and tenderness.

For something of a formless grace
This molded outline plays about;
A pitying flame, beyond our trace,
Breathes like a spirit, in and out--

The love that casts an aureole
Round one who, longer to endure,
Called mirth to cease his ceaseless dole,
Yet kept his nobler purpose sure.

Lo, as I gaze, the statured man,
Built up from yon large hand, appears;
A type that nature wills to plan
But once in all a people's years.

What better than this voiceless cast
To tell of such a one as he,
Since through its living semblance passed
The thought that bade a race be free?

Painted by Hicks; lithograph by L. Grozelier; published by
W. Schaus, New York, 1860; printed by J. H. Bufford, Boston]

Convention Hall, at Chicago, 1860, in which Lincoln was nominated]

The Republicans of Chicago had erected a huge temporary building for the use of the Convention. The "Wigwam," as it was called, covered a space of 600 feet by 180, and the height was between 50 and 60 feet. The building would hold about 10,000 persons, and was divided into platform, ground-floor and gallery. The stage upon which the delegates and members of the press were seated, held about 1,800 persons; the ground-floor and galleries, about 8,000. A large gallery was reserved for ladies, which was filled every day to overflowing. The Convention met on June 16, 1860.

Edmund Clarence Stedman is the author of this poem, and it was published in the _Press and Tribune_ of Chicago, and in _Weekly Illinois State Journal_, June 13, 1860. It was sung to the air of the "Star Spangled Banner" throughout the campaign.

HONEST ABE OF THE WEST

O Hark! from the pine-crested hills of old Maine,
Where the splendor first falls from the wings of the
morning,
And away in the West, over river and plain,
Rings out the grand anthem of Liberty's warning!
From green-rolling prairie it swells to the sea,
For the people have risen, victorious and free,
They have chosen their leaders, and bravest and best
Of them all is Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!

The spirit that fought for the patriots of old
Has swept through the land and aroused us forever;
In the pure air of heaven a standard unfold
Fit to marshal us on to the sacred endeavor!
Proudly the banner of freemen we bear;
Noble the hopes that encircle it there!
And where battle is thickest we follow the crest
Of gallant Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!

There's a triumph in urging a glorious cause,
Though the hosts of the foe for a while may be stronger,
Pushing on for just rules and holier laws,
Till their lessening columns oppose us no longer.
But ours the loud pæan of men who have passed
Through the struggles of years, and are victors at last;
So forward the flag! Leave to Heaven the rest,
And trust in Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West!

From an Ambrotype taken at Springfield, Illinois, August 13, 1860]

William Henry Burleigh, born at Woodstock, Connecticut, February 2, 1812. In early manhood became an advocate of reforms then unpopular, and an acceptable lecturer on behalf of temperance and the anti-slavery cause. He removed to Pittsburgh in 1837, where he published the _Christian Witness_, and afterwards the _Temperance Banner_. As a writer, speaker, editor, poet, reformer, friend and associate, it was the universal testimony of those who knew him best and esteemed him most truly, that he stood in the forefront of his generation. His poetry, animated by deep love of nature and a profound desire to uphold truth and justice, gives him a place with our first minor poets.

PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN, 1860

Up again for the conflict! Our banner fling out,
And rally around it with song and with shout!
Stout of heart, firm of hand, should the gallant boys be,
Who bear to the battle the Flag of the Free!
Like our fathers, when Liberty called to the strife,
They should pledge to her cause fortune, honor, and life!
And follow wherever she beckons them on,
Till Freedom results in a victory won!

They came from the hillside, they came from the glen--
From the streets thronged with traffic and surging with men,
From loom and from ledger, from workshop and farm,
The fearless of heart, and the mighty of arm.
As the mountain-born torrents exultingly leap
When their ice-fetters melt, to the breast of the deep;
As the winds of the prairie, the waves of the sea,
They are coming--are coming--the Sons of the Free!

Our Leader is one who, with conquerless will,
Has climbed from the base to the brow of the hill;
Undaunted in peril, unwavering in strife,
He has fought a good fight in the Battle of Life,
And we trust as one who--come woe or come weal,
Is as firm as the rock and as true as the steel.
Right loyal and brave, with no stain on his breast,
Then, hurrah, boys, for honest "Old Abe of the West!"

A Campaign Cartoon of 1860]

Madison Cawein was born at Louisville, Kentucky, on the 23rd of March, 1865. Was educated in the city and country schools about Louisville and New Albany, Indiana. Graduated from the Male High School, Louisville, in 1886, and the following year published his first volume, called _Blooms of the Berry_. Since then he published some thirty-odd volumes of prose and poetry, both in the United States and England. He died in 1915.

LINCOLN, 1809--FEBRUARY 12, 1909

_Read for the first time at the Lincoln centenary celebration,
Temple Adath Israel, Louisville, Ky._

Yea, this is he, whose name is synonym
Of all that's noble, though but lowly born;
Who took command upon a stormy morn
When few had hope. Although uncouth of limb,
Homely of face and gaunt, but never grim,
Beautiful he was with that which none may scorn--
With love of God and man and things forlorn,
And freedom mighty as the soul in him.
Large at the helm of state he leans and looms
With the grave, kindly look of those who die
Doing their duty. Stanch, unswervingly
Onward he steers beneath portentous glooms,
And overwhelming thunders of the sky,
Till, safe in port, he sees a people free.

Safe from the storm; the harbor-lights of Peace
Before his eyes; the burden of dark fears
Cast from him like a cloak; and in his ears
The heart-beat music of a great release;
Captain and pilot, back upon the seas,
Whose wrath he'd weathered, back he looks with tears,
Seeing no shadow of the Death that nears,
Stealthy and sure, with sudden agonies.
So let him stand, brother to every man,
Ready for toil or battle; he who held
A Nation's destinies within his hand;
Type of our greatness; first American,
By whom the hearts of all men are compelled,
And with whose name Freedom unites our land.

He needs no praise of us, who wrought so well,
Who has the Master's praise; who at his post
Stood to the last. Yet, now, from coast to coast,
Let memory of him peal like some great bell,
Of him as woodsman, workman, let it tell!
Of him as lawyer, statesman, without boast!
And for what qualities we love him most,
And recollections that no time can quell.
He needs no praise of us, yet let us praise,
Albeit his simple soul we may offend,
That liked not praise, being most diffident;
Still let us praise him, praise him in such ways
As his were, and in words that shall transcend
Marble, and outlast any monument.

Photograph by Hesler, Chicago, Illinois, 1860]

Isaac Bassett Choate, born at South Otis Field, Maine, July 12, 1833. Bachelor of Arts, Bowdoin College, 1862. Author of _Wild Birds and Flowers_, 1895; _Wells of English_, 1892; _Obeyed the Camel Driver_, 1899; _Apollo's Guest_, 1907.

By special invitation from the faculty of the Alumni Association of said College he read the following poem at their annual banquet held on the centenary of Lincoln's birth, 1909:

THE MATCHLESS LINCOLN

From out the ranks of common men he rose--
Himself of common elements, yet fine--
As in a wood of different species grows
Above all other trees the lordly pine,
Upon whose branches rest the winter snows,
Upon whose head warm beams of summer shine;
His was the heart to feel the people's woes
And his the hand to hold the builder's line;
Strong, patient, wise and great,
Born ruler of the State.

Among a mountain group one sovereign peak
Will tower aloft unto commanding height
As if more distant view abroad to seek--
First one to hail, last one to speed the light;
Those granite sides will snows of winter streak
E'en in the summer with their purest white;--
Silent, serene, that summit yet will speak
Of loftiest grandeur to the enraptured sight;
So Lincoln's greatness shone
Supreme, unmatched, alone.

Photograph, Springfield, Ill., 1860]

Charlotte Becker was born and has always lived in Buffalo, New York. She was educated in private schools and in Europe, and has written poems for _Harper's Magazine_, _The Metropolitan_, _The American_, _Life_, etc., besides a number of songs which have been set to music by Amy Woodfords-Finden, C. B. Hawley, Whitney Coombs and others.

LINCOLN

Gaunt, rough-hewn face, that bore the furrowed signs
Of days of conflict, nights of agony,
And still could soften to the gentler lines
Of one whose tenderness and truth went free
Beyond the pale of any small confines
To understand and help humanity.

Wise, steadfast mind, that grasped a people's need,
Counting nor pain nor sacrifice too great
To keep the noble purpose of his creed
Strong against all buffeting of Fate,
Though no least solace sprang of work or deed
For him, since triumph came at last--too late.

Brave, weary heart, that beat uncomforted
Beneath its heavy load of grief and care;
That tears of blood for every battle shed,
Yet called on mirth to help his comrades bear
The waiting hours of anguish, and that sped
With loyal haste each breath of balm to share.

Only his people's griefs were his; no part
Had he within their joy; nor his the toll
To know the love that made rebellion start,
Spurred hosts unnumbered to a higher goal;
That his great soul should cleanse a nation's heart,
His martyred heart awake a nation's soul.

on Goose-Nest Prairie, Illinois]

The last home of the parents of Lincoln. Built by his father, Thomas, in 1831, near Farmington, Coles Co., Ill. The father died here in 1851 and the step-mother, Sarah Bush Lincoln, in 1869. After Lincoln was elected President in 1860, and before leaving for Washington to be inaugurated, he visited his mother in this cabin for the last time. As he was leaving her, she made a prediction of his tragic death. With arms about his neck, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she declared it was the last time she would ever see him alive, and it proved to be so.

Lincoln once said, "I was told that I never would make a lawyer if I did not understand what 'demonstrate' means. I left my situation in Springfield, went to my father's house, and stayed there till I could give any proposition in the six books of Euclid at sight. I there found out what demonstrate means."

On Monday, February 11, 1861, Mr. Lincoln and family in company with a party left Springfield, Illinois, for Washington, D. C. A light rain mixed with snow was falling at the time which made the occasion a somewhat gloomy one. Mr. Lincoln appeared on the rear platform of the car where he bade farewell to his neighbors in the following address:

"My friends, no one not in my position can appreciate the sadness I feel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I have lived more than a quarter of a century. Here my children were born, and here one of them lies buried.

"I know not how soon I shall see you again. A duty devolves upon me which is greater, perhaps, than that which has devolved upon any other man since the days of Washington. He never would have succeeded except for the aid of divine Providence, upon which he at all times relied.

"I feel that I cannot succeed without the same divine aid which sustained him; and on the same Almighty Being I place my reliance for support, and I hope you, my friends, will pray that I may receive the divine assistance, without which I cannot succeed, but with which success is certain. Again, I bid you an affectionate farewell."

Mr. Lincoln thought that there is a time to joke and pray; and if, as his detractors affirm, he joked all the way to Washington, if he did not pray also (as we believe he did, and fervently, too) he at least desired the prayers of others, as the circumstances recorded in the following poem will show. It is from the pen of a lady of Philadelphia, Mrs. Anna Bache.

LINCOLN AT SPRINGFIELD, 1861

"My friends,--elected by your choice,
From the long-cherished home I go,
Endeared by Heaven-permitted joys,
Sacred by Heaven-permitted woe,
I go, to take the helm of State,
While loud the waves of faction roar,
And by His aid, supremely great,
Upon whose will all tempests wait,
I hope to steer the bark to shore.
Not since the days when Washington
To battle led our patriots on,
Have clouds so dark above us met,
Have dangers dire so close beset.
And _he_ had never saved the land
By deeds in human wisdom planned,
But that with Christian faith he sought
Guidance and blessing, where he ought.
Like him, I seek for aid divine,
His faith, his hope, his trust, are mine.
Pray for me, friends, that God may make
My judgment clear, my duty plain;
For if the Lord no wardship take,
The watchmen mount the towers in vain."

He ceased; and many a manly breast
Panted with strong emotion's swell,
And many a lip the sob suppressed,
And tears from manly eyelids fell.
And hats came off, and heads were bowed,
As Lincoln slowly moved away;
And then, heart-spoken, from the crowd,
In accents earnest, clear, and loud,
Came one brief sentence, "We _will_ pray!"

Photographed at Springfield, Illinois, in 1861]

On the 22nd of February, 1861, Washington's birthday, on his journey to Washington, to assume the Presidency, Mr. Lincoln raised a new flag over Independence Hall, then went inside and spoke as follows:--

"I am filled with deep emotion at finding myself standing in this place, where were collected together the wisdom, the patriotism, the devotion to principle from which sprang the institutions under which we live. You have kindly suggested to me that in my hands is the task of restoring peace to our distracted country. I can say in return, sirs, that all the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn, so far as I have been able to draw them, from the sentiments which originated in and were given to the world from this hall. I have never had a feeling, politically, that did not spring from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of Independence. I have often pondered over the dangers which were incurred by the men who assembled here and framed and adopted that Declaration. I have pondered over the toils that were endured by the officers and soldiers of the army who achieved that independence. I have often inquired of myself what great principle or idea it was that kept this Confederacy so long together. It was not the mere matter of separation of the colonies from the motherland, but that sentiment in the Declaration of Independence which gave liberty, not alone to the people of this country, but hope to all the world, for all future time. It was that which gave promise that in due time the weight would be lifted from the shoulders of all men and that all should have an equal chance. This is the sentiment embodied in the Declaration of Independence.

"Now, my friends, can this country be saved on that basis? If it can, I will consider myself one of the happiest men in the world if I can help to save it. But if this country cannot be saved without giving up that principle, I was about to say I would rather be assassinated on this spot than surrender it."

Four years and two months later, April 22, 1865, his body lay, assassinated, on the very spot where he had made the above remarks, then being taken to Springfield, Illinois, for burial.

Henry Wilson Clendenin, born at Schellsburg, Pennsylvania, August 1, 1837; educated in private schools and by tutors. Married Mary E. Morey of Monmouth, Illinois, October 23, 1877; to them were born five children, four of whom survive: George M., manager _Illinois State Register_; Clarence R., Deputy Internal Revenue Collector, Springfield, Illinois; Harry F., proofreader, _Illinois State Register_, and Marie, Assistant Instructor Physical Education, State Normal University, Normal, Illinois. He was a private of Company I, Twentieth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, in the Civil War. Began newspaper work on _Burlington_ (Iowa) _Hawkeye_. Afterwards telegraph editor _Peoria Transcript_, 1858; telegraph editor _Burlington Gazette_, 1863, and editor and proprietor, _Keokuk Daily Constitution_, 1876-1881; since that year was editor and president of the _Illinois State Register_. Postmaster, Springfield 1886-90. Member Illinois State Historical Society, The Jefferson Association, Grand Army of the Republic and Sons of the American Revolution. Director of Lincoln Library at Springfield, Illinois, for ten years. Member of the First Congregational Church of that city.

This sonnet was written by Mr. Clendenin, in Philadelphia, February 22, 1861, after witnessing Lincoln hoist the flag over Independence Hall.

LINCOLN CALLED TO THE PRESIDENCY

Hark to the sound that speedeth o'er the land!
Behold the sword in fratricidal hand!
'Tis duty calls thee, Lincoln, and thy trust
Demands that all thy acts be wise and just.
No idle task to thee has been assigned,
But work that's worthy of a giant mind--
And on the issue hangs the nation's fame
As a free people who deserve the name.
So, walk thou in the way the fathers trod;
Be true to freedom, country, and to God;
Then truth will triumph, treason be undone,
And thou be hailed the second Washington.
The first, the Father of his country--thou,
Its Saviour. Bind the laurel on thy brow.

From a photograph by S. M. Fassett of Chicago]

An act of Congress July 9, 1790, established the District of Columbia as the National Capital, and provided that prior to the first Monday of December, 1800, the Commissioners should have finished a suitable building for the sessions of Congress. The site of the Capitol was included in L'Enfant's plan for the city. The cornerstone was laid September 18, 1793, with Masonic rites, George Washington officiating. The wings of the central building were completed in 1811, and were partially burned by the British, in 1814. The entire central building was finished in 1827. The cornerstone of the extension was laid by President Fillmore, July 4, 1851. The extensions were first occupied by Congress 1857 and 1859. Up to that time the Senate Chamber was the present Supreme Court Room, and the Hall of Representatives was the present National Statuary Hall. The dome was finished during the administration of President Lincoln. The total cost of the Capitol building and grounds was about thirty million dollars. The remains of President Lincoln were escorted from the White House to the Capitol at three o'clock P.M., on the 19th of April, 1865. The number in the procession was estimated at forty thousand, and that many more were spectators along the route. The burial service was conducted by Dr. Gurley. The special train bearing the remains left at 8 A.M., Friday, April 21, for Springfield, Illinois, stopping at Baltimore, Maryland; Harrisburg and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Albany and Buffalo, New York; Cleveland and Columbus, Ohio; Indianapolis, Indiana; Chicago, Illinois, reaching Springfield, Illinois, the 3d of May, and was buried the following day. The body lay in state in all of the above cities.

The Second Inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the
United States, in front of the Capitol, Washington, March 4, 1865]

Edwin Markham, born at Oregon City, Oregon, April 23, 1852; settled in California in 1857, and worked there during his boyhood, principally as a blacksmith. Worked his way through the San Jose Normal School and Santa Rosa College. Became a writer of stories and verse for papers and magazines, and principal and superintendent of California schools. Was the author of _The Man With the Hoe, and Other Poems_ (1899); _The Man With the Hoe, with Notes by the Author_ (1900); _The End of the Century_ (1899); _Lincoln, the Great Commoner_ (1900); _The Mighty Hundred Years; Lincoln and Other Poems_ (1901); _The Shoes of Happiness_ (1915). His _Man With the Hoe_ was extensively republished and gave him wide fame.

LINCOLN THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE

When the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour,
Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,
She bent the strenuous Heavens and came down
To make a man to meet the mortal need.
She took the tried clay of the common road--
Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,
Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy;
Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff.
It was a stuff to wear for centuries,
A man that matched the mountains, and compelled
The stars to look our way and honor us.

The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;
The tang and 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 the rain that loves all leaves;
The pity of snow that hides all scars;
The loving-kindness of the wayside well;
The tolerance and equity of light
That gives as freely to the shrinking weed
As to the great oak flaring to the wind--
To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn
That shoulders out the sky.

And so he came.
From prairie cabin up to Capitol,
One fair ideal led our chieftain on.
Forevermore he burned to do his deed
With the fine stroke and gesture of a king.
He built the rail pile as he built the State,
Pouring his splendid strength through every blow,
The conscience of him testing every stroke,
To make his deed the measure of a man.

So came the Captain with the mighty heart;
And when the step of earthquake shook the house,
Wresting the rafters from their ancient hold,
He held the ridge-pole up and spiked again
The rafters of the Home. He held his place--
Held the long purpose like a growing tree--
Held on through blame and faltered not at praise,
And when he fell, in whirlwind, he went down
As when a kingly cedar, green with boughs,
Goes down with a great shout upon the hills,
And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.

The corner-stone was laid by George Washington on the 13th of October, 1792. The mansion was first occupied by President John Adams in the year 1800, also by every succeeding President. British troops burned it in 1814, in President Madison's term. It was the first public building erected in Washington. It is constructed of Virginia freestone, and is 170 feet in length, 80 feet in depth, and consists of a rustic basement, two stories and an attic.

John Vance Cheney, born Groveland, New York, December 29, 1848. Graduated Temple Hill Academy, Genesee, New York, at seventeen. Assistant principal there two years later. Practiced law, New York, 1875-6; librarian Free Public Library, San Francisco, 1887-94; Newberry Library, Chicago, 1894-1909; author, _The Old Doctor_, 1881; and a number of poems, 1887-1911.

LINCOLN

The hour was on us; where the man?
The fateful sands unfaltering ran,
And up the way of tears
He came into the years.

Our pastoral captain. Forth he came,
As one that answers to his name;
Nor dreamed how high his charge,
His work how fair and large,

To set the stones back in the wall
Lest the divided house should fall,
And peace from men depart,
Hope and the childlike heart.

We looked on him; "'Tis he," we said,
"Come crownless and unheralded,
The shepherd who will keep
The flocks, will fold the sheep."

Unknightly, yes: yet 'twas the mien
Presaging the immortal scene,
Some battles of His wars
Who sealeth up the stars.

Not he would take the past between
His hands, wipe valor's tablets clean,
Commanding greatness wait
Till he stands at the gate;

Not he would cramp to one small head
The awful laurels of the dead,
Time's mighty vintage cup,
And drink all honor up.

No flutter of the banners bold
Borne by the lusty sons of old,
The haughty conquerors
Set forward to their wars;

Not his their blare, their pageantries,
Their goal, their glory, was not his;
Humbly he came to keep
The flocks, to fold the sheep.

The need comes not without the man;
The prescient hours unceasing ran,
And up the way of tears
He came into the years.

Our pastoral captain, skilled to crook
The spear into the pruning hook,
The simple, kindly man,
Lincoln, American.

New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, Washington, D. C.]

President Lincoln and family attended this church during his Administration. The pew that they occupied is still preserved in its black walnut trimmings, though the rest of the sanctuary has been refurnished.

Lyman Whitney Allen, born at St. Louis, November 19, 1854. Bachelor of Arts, Washington University, St. Louis, 1878; later Master of Arts, Princeton Theological, 1878-80; Post-graduate studies at Princeton University; (D.D., University of Wooster, 1897). Ordained Presbyterian Minister, 1882; stated supply Kimmswick, Missouri, 1881-3; DeSoto, Missouri, 1883-5; Pastor-elect Carondelet Church, St. Louis, Missouri, 1885-9; Pastor South Park Church, Newark, New Jersey, since 1889. Director Board of Home Missions, Presbyterian; Chaplain New Jersey Society D. A. R.; Member Society American Authors; New Jersey Society S. A. R. Club, Princeton (New York). Has written many poems and articles, including the New York _Herald's_ $1,000 prize poem which was published in 1895.

Rev. Dr. Lyman Whitney Allen of Newark, New Jersey, had for his guest Chief Justice Wendell Phillips Stafford of the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia. Judge Stafford addressed the Men's Club of Dr. Allen's church one evening, and next day, in company with his host, visited the Lincoln statue on the court-house plaza. On the train that bore him back to Washington that day, Judge Stafford wrote the poem on the Statue. (See page 236).

A few weeks thereafter Dr. Allen visited his friend, the judge, in Washington, and they made a little pilgrimage to the New York Avenue Presbyterian church. In the Lincoln pew Dr. Allen sat and meditated, and on his way back he wrote the verses.

"I had seen the Lincoln statue many times," says Dr. Allen, "but, somehow, I could not get started on the poem I knew could be written around it." And Judge Stafford wrote to his friend in Newark: "I had seen the Lincoln pew a score of times without poetic result, yet you come on a one-day visit and carry away the inspiration needed."

LINCOLN'S CHURCH IN WASHINGTON

Within the historic church both eye and soul
Perceived it. 'Twas the pew where Lincoln sat--
The only Lincoln God hath given to men--
Olden among the modern seats of prayer,
Dark like the 'sixties, place and past akin.
All else has changed, but this remains the same,
A sanctuary in a sanctuary.

Where Lincoln prayed! What passion had his soul--
Mixt faith and anguish melting into prayer
Upon the burning altar of God's fane,
A nation's altar even as his own.

Where Lincoln prayed! Such worshipers as he
Make thin ranks down the ages. Wouldst thou know
His spirit suppliant? Then must thou feel
War's fiery baptism, taste hate's bitter cup,
Spend similar sweat of blood vicarious,
And sound the cry, "If it be possible!"
From stricken heart in new Gethsemane.

Who saw him there are gone, as he is gone;
The pew remains, with what God gave him there,
And all the world through him. So let it be--
One of the people's shrines.

From a photograph in possession of Mr. Stuart Brown of
Springfield, Illinois]

John James Piatt was born in Indiana, March 1, 1835. His earliest schooling was received at Rising Sun, in Indiana. At the age of fourteen he was set to learn the printing business in the office of the _Ohio State Journal_ at Columbus, Ohio, for a brief period, and at the age of eighteen years first began to write verses. His poems were chiefly on themes connected with his native West.

SONNET IN 1862

Stern be the Pilot in the dreadful hour
When a great nation, like a ship at sea
With the wroth breakers whitening at her lee,
Feels her last shudder if her helmsman cower;
A godlike manhood be his mighty dower!
Such and so gifted, Lincoln, may'st thou be
With thy high wisdom's low simplicity
And awful tenderness of voted power.
From our hot records then thy name shall stand
On Time's calm ledger out of passionate days--
With the pure debt of gratitude begun,
And only paid in never-ending praise--
One of the many of a mighty land,
Made by God's providence the Anointed One.

[Signed: For Mrs. Lucy G. Speed, from whose pious hand I
accepted the present of an Oxford Bible twenty
years ago.

Washington, D. C. October 3, 1861

A. Lincoln ]]

Lincoln once said: "When any church will inscribe over its altar, as its sole qualification for membership, the Saviour's condensed statement of the substance of both law and gospel, 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself', that church will I join with all my heart and all my soul."

LINCOLN, SOLDIER OF CHRIST

_From Macmillan's Magazine, England_

Lincoln! When men would name a man
Just, unperturbed, magnanimous,
Tried in the lowest seat of all,
Tried in the chief seat of the house--

Lincoln! When men would name a man
Who wrought the great work of his age,
Who fought, and fought the noblest fight,
And marshalled it from stage to stage.

Victorious, out of dusk and dark,
And into dawn and on till day,
Most humble when the pæans rang,
Least rigid when the enemy lay

Prostrated for his feet to tread--
This name of Lincoln will they name,
A name revered, a name of scorn,
Of scorn to sundry, not to fame.

Lincoln; the man who freed the slave;
Lincoln, whom never self enticed;
Slain Lincoln, worthy found to die
A soldier of the captain Christ.

Photographed by Brady at the time of the "Cooper Institute Speech,"
February, 1860]

Photograph by Gardner, Washington]

Rev. Hamilton Schuyler was born in Oswego, New York, 1862, and is a son of the late Anthony Schuyler, who was for many years rector of Grace Church, Orange, New Jersey. He belongs to the well-known family of that name, being seventh in descent from Philip Peterse Schuyler, founder of the family, who came to this country from Holland and settled in Albany in 1650. He studied at Oxford University, England, and the General Theological Seminary of New York. Has held positions in Calvary Church, New York; Trinity Church, Newport, Rhode Island, and was for several years dean of the Cathedral at Davenport, Iowa, under the late Bishop Perry. He began his rectorship at Trenton in February, 1900. Has written extensively for journals and periodicals. Among the bound publications which bear his name as author are _A Fisher of Men_, a biography of the late Churchill Satterlee, priest and missionary, son of the first Bishop of Washington; _Studies in English Church History_; _The Intellectual Crisis Confronting Christianity_; and _A History of Trinity Church, Trenton_. In 1900 his poem, _The Incapable_, won a prize of two hundred dollars offered by the late Collis P. Huntington through the _New York Sun_, for the best poems antithetical to Edwin Markham's _Man With the Hoe_. A volume of Mr. Schuyler's verses, under the title _Within the Cloister's Shadow_, was published in 1914.

A CHARACTERIZATION OF LINCOLN

_From Lincoln Centenary Ode_

Tall, ungainly, gaunt of limb,
Rudely Nature molded him.
Awkward form and homely face,
Owing naught to outward grace;
Yet, behind the rugged mien
Were a mind and soul serene,
And in deep-set eyes there shone
Genius that was all his own.
Humor quaint with pathos blent
To his speech attraction lent;
Telling phrase and homely quip
Falling lightly from his lip.
Eloquent of tongue, and clear,
Logical, devoid of fear,
Making plain whate'er was dense
By the light of common sense.
Tender as the bravest be,
Pitiful in high degree,
Wrathful only where offence
Led to grievous consequence;
Hating sham and empty show;
Chivalrous to beaten foe;
Ever patient in his ways;
Cheerful in the darkest days;
Not a demi-god or saint
Such as fancy loves to paint,
But a truly human man
Built on the heroic plan.

Moses Kimball, a citizen of Boston, presented to the city a duplicate of the Freedman's Memorial Statue erected in Lincoln Park, Washington, D. C., after a design by Thomas Ball. The group, which stands in Park Square, represents the figure of a slave from whose limbs the broken fetters have fallen, kneeling in gratitude at the feet of Lincoln. The verses which follow were written for the unveiling of the statue, December 9, 1879.

John Greenleaf Whittier, born December 17, 1807, in Haverhill, Massachusetts. He lived on a farm until he reached the age of eighteen, working a little at shoemaking and also writing poetry for the _Haverhill Gazette_. Later he became editor of a number of papers, and his poems in after life were full of patriotism and the love of human freedom, all of which attained a strong hold on the hearts of the people. He would have prevented war, if possible, with honor, but when war came he wrote in support of the Union cause, displaying no bitterness, and when the conflict was over he was most liberal and conciliatory. He was one of the most popular of poets. He died September 7, 1892.

THE EMANCIPATION GROUP

Amidst thy sacred effigies
Of old renown give place,
O city. Freedom-loved! to his
Whose hand unchained a race.

Take the worn frame, that rested not
Save in a martyr's grave;
The care-lined face, that none forgot,
Bent to the kneeling slave.

Let man be free! The mighty word
He spoke was not his own;
An impulse from the Highest stirred
These chiseled lips alone.

The cloudy sign, the fiery guide,
Along his pathway ran,
And Nature, through his voice, denied
The ownership of man.

We rest in peace where these sad eyes
Saw peril, strife, and pain;
His was the Nation's sacrifice,
And ours the priceless gain.

O symbol of God's will on earth
As it is done above
Bear witness to the cost and worth
Of justice and of love!

Stand in thy place and testify
To coming ages long,
That truth is stronger than a lie,
And righteousness than wrong.

Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1863]

Theron Brown, born at Willimantic, Connecticut, April 29, 1832. Graduated at Hartford Theological Seminary in 1858; Newton Theological Institution, 1859. Ordained in Baptist Ministry, 1859; Pastor South Framingham, Massachusetts, 1859-62; Canton, Massachusetts, 1863-70; on staff _Youth's Companion_ since 1870. Author various juvenile stories; _Life Songs_ (poems), 1894; _Nameless Women of the Bible_, 1904; _The Story of the Hymns and Tunes_, 1907; _Under the Mulberry Tree_ (a novel), 1909; _The Birds of God_, 1911. He died February 14, 1914.

THE LIBERATOR

When, scornful of a nation's rest,
The angry horns of Discord blew
There came a giant from the West,
And found a giant's work to do.

He saw, in sorrow--and in wrath--
A mighty empire in its strait,
Torn like a planet in its path
To warring hemisphere of hate.

Between the thunder-clouds he stood;
He harked to Ruin's battle-drum,
And cried in patriot hardihood,
"Why do I wait? My hour has come!

"Was it my fate, my lot, my woe
To be the Ruler of the land,
Nor own my oath that long ago
I swore upon this heart and hand?

"That vow, like barb from bowman's string,
Shall pierce sedition's secret plea:
God grant the bloodless blow shall sting
Till brother's quarrels cease to be!

"Should once the sudden wound provoke
New strife in anger's zone
The clash may be the penal stroke
That makes a new Republic one."

He wrote his Message--clear as light,
And bolder than a king's command--
And when war's whirlwinds spent their might
There was no bondman in the land.

Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C.,
January 24, 1863]

TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN

_January 1, 1863_

Lincoln, that with thy steadfast truth the sand
Of men and time and circumstance dost sway!
The slave-cloud dwindles on this golden day,
And over all the pestilent southern land,
Breathless, the dark expectant millions stand,
To watch the northern sun rise on its way,
Cleaving the stormy distance--every ray
Sword-bright, sword-sharp, in God's invisible hand.

Better with this great end, partial defeat,
And jibings of the ignorant worldly-wise,
Than laud and triumph won with shameful blows.
The dead Past lies in its dead winding-sheet;
The living Present droops with tearful eyes;
But far beyond the awaiting Future glows.

_Edmund Ollier, in London (Eng.) Morning Star._

Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.]

Charles G. Foltz was born at West Winfield, Herkimer County, New York, September 9, 1837. His parents were Benjamin Foltz, a Presbyterian clergyman, and Jane Harwood Foltz. In 1846 the family moved to Cuyahoga County, Ohio. In 1849 to Wisconsin, first to Rock County, then to Walworth County, and in 1854 to Burlington, Racine County, where he has since resided.

ON FREEDOM'S SUMMIT

On freedom's summit, Oh, how grand
Stood Lincoln ruler of our land,
As he issued the sublime command
Let the enslaved be free.
Ere long he saw the Bondmen rise;
Ere long as Freedmen seize the prize,
The precious boon of liberty.

A backward glance he cast
Into the valley of the past,
Amid the shade and gloom
Discerning slavery's tomb.
Out from the depths his upturned eyes
Beheld the fleeing clouds the brighter skies.
Upon him shone a glory like the sun,
Reflecting "peace toward all, malice toward none."