We hoped for a happy termination of this terrible war long before this, but God knows best, and has ruled otherwise. We shall yet acknowledge his wisdom and our own errors therein. Meanwhile, we must work earnestly in the best light he gives, trusting that so working still induces to the great end he ordains. Surely he intends some great good to follow this mighty convulsion, which no mortal could make and no mortal could stay. Your people, the Friends, have had, and are having, very great trials in principles and faith; opposed to both war and oppression, they can only practically oppose oppression by war. In this hard dilemma some have chosen one horn and some the other. For those appealing to me, on conscientious grounds, I have done, and shall do, the best I could and can in my own conscience and my oath to the law. That you believe this I doubt not, and, believing it, I shall still receive for our country and myself your earnest prayers to our Father in heaven. (Signed) Your sincere friend, A. LINCOLN. Most appropriate are these words to the event of his own death. We find the consolation we need in the belief of an over-ruling Providence, who directs all things, great and small, with reference to his own ultimate purposes: Peace be still! In this night of sorrow bow, Peace-be still! All thy mourning words are vain— Hold thee still! Though the Father scourge thee sore, Let him mercy's work fulfill: Hold thee still! Hold thee still! Though the Good Physician's knife Lord, my God, Give me grace, that I may be Shepherd mine, From thy fulness give me still Faith to do and bear thy will, Till the morning light shall shine, This is the substance of our counsel to-day. Be still, and know that this is God! When opportunity for reflection shall come, I may address you with more specific instruction. Amid the tumultuous emotions of this morning my compendious advice is, be calm, be prayerful, be firm in your faith in God. Pray for your country, and pray especially for him who is thus suddenly called to be the President of the Republic. Let us bury the dead with all honor and grief, and turn to the living with sympathy, with confidence, and with hope. Presidents die, the country lives. Agents disappear, but the kingdom of God advances. How worthless, how transient is every thing here on earth, save as it is related to that kingdom of our Lord which never shall be moved. Death, how mysterious! To-day, a man so great, so powerful in command of armies and navies-to-morrow, nothing but ashes! He that would be immortal, in the true sense, must identify himself with that kingdom of Christ which gives to time all its importance, and to eternity all its glory. SERMON XX. REV. HENRY J. FOX. "Death is come up into our windows and entered into our palaces.”JEREMIAH ix. 21. "Is he slain according to the slaughter of them that were slain by him?" -ISAIAH Xxvii. 7. "If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small."-PROVERBS xxiv. 10. “Vengeance belongeth unto me; I will recompense, saith the Lord.”— HEBREWS X. 30. THE great and slowly revolving wheel of history, has again dipped itself in blood. Never, in the annals of nations was a people plunged into greater affliction, than have been the people of this great country since the morning of Saturday last. The spectacle which this nation presents to-day is one of the most imposing and solemn that ever men or gods have looked down upon. If the spirits of the departed can stoop from their lofty abode and behold the dwellers upon earth-if they are permitted to become cognizant of what is transpiring among men, then does the spirit of Abraham Lincoln realize, to-day as never ruler of men has realized before, how deep-how wide-spread--can be the affection and grief of a people for a man exalted by the providence of God, to stretch out over them a governing and protecting hand. A little over four years ago Abraham Lincoln left his western home. As he left it, he said to his friends and neighbors, "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 one-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." These words in their very sadness seem to me to have been a prophecy. You will remember, that in that brief, touching, parting address, he also spoke of the duty he would be called to perform, as "one greater than any that had fallen to the lot of any man, since the days of Washington "--of Washington as only succeeding because aided by Divine Providence; and, said he, "on the same Almighty Being I place my reliance, and I hope you my friends will pray that I may receive that Divine assistance without which I cannot succeed, but with which success is certain." It has been said by one of our public journalists, that our city is like "a vast burial ground whose monuments are hung with the symbols of woe," and as it is with this city, so it is with every city and village and hamlet in the land. "It is as if a pall overhung the land, and in the shadow of it dwelt a chilled and awe-struck people." We may, indeed, say with the prophet, "death is come up into our windows and entered into our palaces." Never, in the history of the world was there, I apprehend, so spontaneous and so general an exhibition of the signs of mourning. And it is not the mansions of the rich merely that put on sad drapery, the poor out of their scanty means have vied with their wealthier neighbors in displaying the emblems of grief. Whilst the millionaire has spent his hundreds on funereal upholstery, the poor mother, made a widow by the war, has spent her last dollar in humble insignia of woe; and even the maimed drummer-boy with but a few cents in his pocket has denied himself their use, that his armless sleeve might have its narrow band of crape. It is solemn and appalling to be in the presence of death in any form. We are affected and moved by it. But when it smites down, as in this case it has, one around whom all the affections of a great people were closely and indissolubly entwining themselves, then new and profounder elements enter into and are mixed with the cup of our sorrow. As a nation we have been called to follow other Presidents to an untimely grave. Harrison and Taylor both died during their term of office. But in these instances death was ushered, if not invited, in, by disease and overwork. Abraham Lincoln fell after a long and dreadful storm, just as the rainbow was spanning the clearing sky, just as he was about to open, in the name of the nation, the bright gates of the temple of peace, just when passion was quenching her fires, and the spear and the bow were being broken asunder, just then was he struck down by the hand of the assassin. For the first time in the history of our hitherto happy land, so far as the government is concerned, the hand of the assassin has been stretched out to the completion of a most bloody work. Hamilton, it is true, fell in a duel, and there have been others high in authority who have engaged in bloody personal frays, but never before have we had a chief magistrate or any government official foully and basely murdered. With regard to the assassin, there is no ingenuity by which he can escape his doom. He may be hidden for a while; he may wander like a wild beast through the tan |