ABRAHAM LINCOLN

This man whose homely face you look upon
Was one of Nature's masterful, great men ;
Born with strong arms, that unfought battles won,
Direct of speech and cunning with the pen.
Chosen for large designs, he had the art
Of winning with his humor, and he went
Straight to his mark, which was the human heart;
Wise, too, for what he could not break, he bent.
Upon his back a more than Atlas-load,
The burden of the Commonwealth, was laid;
He stooped, and rose up to it, though the road
Shot suddenly downward, not a whit dismayed:
Patiently resolute, what the stern hour
Demanded, that he was,

Richard Henry Stoddard. 1877.

By special permission of

Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons.

that Man, that Power.

THE EMANCIPATION GROUP

(PARK SQUARE, BOSTON; DUPLICATE OF THE FREEDMEN'S MEMORIAL STATUE, LINCOLN SQUARE, WASHINGTON)

Amidst thy sacred effigies

Of old renown give place,
O city, Fredom-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 chiselled 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

Saw peril, strife, and pain;

His was the nation's sacrifice,
And ours the priceless gain.

eyes

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.

John Greenleaf Whittier.

1879.

By special permission of

Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

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 mould

The man who sped the woodman's team, And deepest sunk the ploughman'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;

A chief's, uplifted to the Lord

When all the kings of earth were 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 knotted 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 moulded outline plays about;
A pitying flame, beyond our trace,
Breathes like a spirit, in and out,

The love that cast an aureole

Round one who, longer to endure, Called mirth to ease 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.