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as though he were not It is plain to us now. stories one the less. manners, and lo! they are full of an immortal charm. Woe to the biographer who attempts to make him anything less plain than he was! Woe to the artist who tries to soften one feature, or to take one line out of his honest face! We love him, just as he was. We cannot spare one of his peculiar traits. He must be all there,― in history, in our memory, in imagination,-forever allowed to be just what God made him. And we will risk the verdict of the ages, for God's noblest work is an honest man.
himself almost ready to despair. We would not have his quaint Death has touched his unstudied
In one point the parallel between Mr. Lincoln and the Prince of Orange fails. The Prince made a tour through the provinces, "honoring every city with a brief visit. The spontaneous homage which went up to him from every heart was pathetic and simple. There were no triumphal arches, no martial music, no banners, no theatrical pageantry,—nothing but the choral anthem from thousands of grateful hearts. "Father William has come! Father William has come!' cried men, women, and children to each other, when the news of his arrival in town or village was announced. He was a patriarch visiting his children, not a conqueror nor a vulgar potentate displaying himself to his admirers. Happy were they who heard his voice, happier they who touched his hands; for his words were full of tenderness, his hand was offered to all. There were none so humble as to be forbidden to approach him, none so ignorant as not to know his deeds."
"None so humble as to be forbidden to approach him." Is there any but one man alone, of whom we can think to-day, as we hear those words? the tall, swaying form rising to welcome the poor freedwoman into his own family circle, — bidding her sit down in his own arm-chair, the tears gathering in his eyes as he listened to her simple story of sufferings and wrongs,— introducing her to his wife and friends, and waiting upon her as carefully as though she had been a queen. "His words were full of tenderness." That we might know by looking into his deep, sad, almost tearful eyes. "He was very pitiful, and of tender mercy." And the tones of his voice, falling on the ear of distress and wretchedness, will linger, in sweet benedictions, until the ears that heard them are dull and cold as his own. patriarch visiting his children." Such he would have been, no doubt, had he lived to indulge his goodness, and to please the ardent wish of thirty millions of people. We know what our welcome would have been. But we cannot conceive the great love which would have gushed up unto him out of the soft hearts of a disenthralled and enfranchised race. His first concern was to save his children," then he would have leisure to "visit" them. Thank God, we are permitted to believe that he fulfilled the main purpose: may he receive, in the streets of the Golden City, the offerings of love which are due him from his delivered "children!" "No triumphal arches, no martial music, no banners, no theatrical pageantry," but a voice, as the voice of many waters, saying unto him, next after the Lamb
that was slain, 66 THOU HAST REDEEMED US
How incomplete, yet how complete!
"No waning of fire, no quenching of ray,
How complete! Would he not say so, as to all that concerned his country, if his spirit could stoop for a moment, and touch those cold lips which are sealed forever? Would it not have filled out the utmost stretch of his ambition and earthly hope, when he came from his simple home in the West, had he known,-that the State across which he was borne secretly and in disguise, would come first, singing the pæans of freedom, to lay its offerings of thanksgiving at his feet; that he should live to issue, in the providence of God, a proclamation giving manhood and womanhood to four millions of slaves; that he should hear of his own plain name, tenderly spoken all over the earth wherever goodness is revered and liberty loved; that he should be permitted, by his wise counsels, seconded by the able captains whom he drew to his cause, to make his distracted country feared and respected throughout the civilized. world; that the very day on which his summons to eternity should come, would be but the fourth anniversary of the day on which the Starry Banner stooped to the dust at Fort Sumter; and that on that day the same banner, by the same hand which surrendered it,
should be lifted up to its ancient height, but covered with more than its ancient glory,-had he foreknown all this, would he not have said, Lord, that will be enough then let thy servant depart, for mine eyes will have seen thy salvation?"
"Follow now, as ye list! the first mourner to-day Is the nation, - whose Father is taken away!
Wife, children, and neighbor may moan at his knell,
He disliked the sight
I will not attempt to scan the counsels of the Most High, and to say why it is that we are thus bereaved. Perhaps it is better for us that we should be orphans to-day, than that he whom we loved to call "Father" should have been spared. His paternal heart, had it still throbbed in life, might have proved too tender for the stern work we are yet to do. of blood. He was melted by tears. He was made soft as woman by the tones of pleading wretchedness. We do not know; but there is One who does know. The Eye which looks through all things, may see, in the feeble man whom He now chooses, a strong, innate sense of justice. That man, upheld by our sympathies and prayers, and inspired by God's special grace, may prove to be the sword of divine justice, executing wrath upon
the evil-doers. Those who naturally exult over the tragedy, may find that only mercy is slain, while vengeance yet lives! Lives, did I say? ah, yes! and roused up to an intensity of fury which will require all our might to restrain! Traitors! would you have forgiveness? go seek it of him whom your bloody hands have slain!" that is the voice which now rises up and rolls over the land, from shore to shore. But God's way is "far above." It is his glory to conceal a thing. "Who hath known the mind of the Lord, or who hath been his counsellor?" It seems to us, even in this bitter hour, that we see the trailing splendors of the inner light which he inhabits; "but how little a portion is known of Him? the thunder of his power who can understand?”
We have one occasion of thanks, in this hour of agony, in the fact that our departed ruler was not a king. Had he been the sovereign, who can tell what anarchy might now ensue? But the people are the sovereign, and he was their minister. We may thank God that our 66 king never dies.” He is myriad-handed and myriad-eyed. We look for no disturbance, no bewilderment, for no wandering up and down, as of sheep not having a shepherd; but for a full and clear comprehension of the exigency of the hour; for a calm wisdom, and prompt energy, on the part of a great people, which has successfully grappled with so many dangers in the past. Perhaps God is giving us our grand opportunity to show to an incredulous world, that we are indeed a government by the people. Had not our beloved President been taken from us, had he lived until we were