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.
[Illustration: CABIN OF LINCOLN'S PARENTS
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."
[Illustration: LINCOLN HOMESTEAD, SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS]
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.