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ham Lincoln is dead, Aha, so would we have it." But we believe in the resurrection, -yea, more; we believe that Abraham Lincoln “ still lives,” that he is “marching on,” and time will soon teach them “ What this rising from the dead doth mean.” Time shall soon furnish a fresh commentary, a new unfolding of the farreaching sense of that saying which Jesus uttered on the first day of the first “passion-week,” in the year 33 : • Verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” The world will see this truth realized in our history. By wicked hands ” the President “ hath been slain ; but the harvest of moral fruitage from his death will be the garnered legacy of the nation through the ages to come. The dark Saturday of the Passion-week of 1865 will be the harbinger of a brighter day, “ whose sun shall no more go down.”

As we trace the hand of God in history, it is a source of comfort and strength to call to mind the proofs evolved by the last five years, that God raised up Abraham Lincoln, and “made his name great” for us; that, the singular combination and balance of forces that distinguished his character was a special gift to this nation for its “time of need;" and the cheering truth that gleams forth from this retrospect, inspiring fresh hope touching the veiled future is, that there was the same divine wisdom in the withdrawal of the gift that there was in its bestowal.

Over the lifeless form of our murdered leader, therefore, let it be ours to worship and adore, in the spirit of the afflicted patriarch, “ the greatest of all the men of

the East”; who, as he sat in sorrow amid the ravages of his fields, the desolations of his home and the corpses of his children, exclaimed in those memorable words, more than ever weighty with an emphasis of meaning for us to-day, “the Lord GAVE, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord.”

Shall we, as a favored people, acknowledge the greatness of the gift, the munificence of the giver, and then fail to see and acknowledge the wisdom that hath determined the time of its continuance? Thanks be to God, that the President lived to see the rebel power broken by the surrender of its general-in-chief, and to walk the streets of its capitol. Thanks be to God, that he lived to see the close of the day that witnessed the restoration of our insulted flag over the ruins of Fort Sumter by the same hand that had unfurled it there, amid many prayers, in an hour of peril, and then had withdrawn it without dishonor! Thanks be to God, that the last announcement of the President to the nation that he loved more than life was, that he was drafting a proclamation of national thanksgiving, calling upon all to unite in anthems of praise unto Him who hath given us the victory. That call a grateful people will answer in due time; and in the anthems of that festival he will join in concert with the heavenly choirs that hailed the advent of our Messiah over the plains of Bethlehem, when they sang: “Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, and GOOD WILL TOWARD MEN!”

Edserie mokasta REV. E. B. WEBB.

ISAIAH XXI: 11, 12.

HE CALLETH TO ME OUT OF SEIR, WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE Night? WATCHMAN, WHAT OF The Night?

The WATCHMAN SAID, THE MORNING COMETH, AND ALSO THE NIGHT.

THESE words seem to me strikingly appropriate to our present circumstances. Last Sabbath morning it was my privilege to place before your minds some reasons for thankfulness, thankfulness to God. Then the streets were decked with symbols of joy; gladness in welcome accents broke from every lip. Men's countenances were bright, as if reflecting the coming of the morning. We clasped each other's hands with a jubilant pulse, and every eye answered back hope, inspiration, to the eye

that looked into it. But how changed is all in a moment! Yesterday morning flags were set at half-mast. Even Sumter's flag is but half raised. As the day advanced, emblems of mourning drooped from the highest windows to the sidewalk. The President is assassinated ! Men hold their breath, and turn pale at the appalling words. Citizens meet, and shake hands, and part in 13

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