Classic Poem

Not one of all earth's wise and good
Hath earned a purer gratitude,
Than the great soul whose hallowed dust
This structure holds in sacred trust.

How fierce the strife that rent the land
When he was summoned to command!
With what wise care he led us through
The fearful storms that round him blew!

Calm, patient, hopeful, undismayed,
He met the angry hosts arrayed
For bloody war, and overcame
Their haughty power in freedom's name.

Mid taunts and doubts the bondman's chain
With gentle force he cleft in twain,
And raised four million slaves to be
The chartered sons of liberty.

No debt he owed to wealth or birth;
By simple force of solid worth
He climbed the topmost height of fame,
And wrote thereon a spotless name.

Oh, when the felon hand laid low
That sacred head, a sudden woe
Shot to the nation's farthest bound,
And every bosom felt the wound.

Well might that nation bow in grief,
And weep above her fallen chief,
Who ever strove by word and pen
For " peace on earth, good will to men. "

The people loved him, for they knew
Each pulse of his large heart was true
To them, to country and the right,
Unswayed by gain, unawed by might.

This tomb by loving hands uppiled,
To him, the merciful and mild,
From age to age shall carry down
The glory of his great renown.

As the long centuries onward flow,
As generations come and go,
Wide and more wide his fame shall spread,
And greener laurels crown his head.

And when this pile shall fall to dust,
It's bronzes crumble into rust,
Thy name, oh Lincoln, still shall be
Revered and loved from sea to sea!

India's swart millions 'neath their palms
Shall sing thy praise in grateful psalms,
And crowds by Congo's turbid wave
Bless the good hand that freed the slave.

Shine on, oh star of freedom, shine!
'Till all the realms of earth are thine,
And all her tribes through countless days
Shall bask in thy benignant rays.

Lord of the nations, grant us still
Another patriot sage, to fill
The seat of power, and save the state
From selfish greed. For this we wait.