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EASTER SUNDAY:

A DISCOURSE Delivered in sT. JOHN'S EPISCOPAL CHURCH, Louisville, KY., ON SUNDAY, APRIL 16, 1865;

BY REV. J. J. TALBOTT, RECTOR.

IT

was matter of the deepest regret, that the most solemn Fast of the Church should have been a day of public rejoicing; and it is equally matter of regret, that now the most joyous Feast of the Church should be a day of public mourning.

The unvarying custom of the Church, the suggestions of the lessons, and, indeed, the entire spirit of the service for this day, require that the subject of our Lord's resurrection shall be the topic of discourse, and the subject of our meditations. But while the Church stands forth in her highest festival, sings her most exultant songs, and wears the badge of her highest rejoicing, an event transpires which seems to hush the pæan on her lips, and change her jubilate to her miserere.

A terrible calamity has befallen the nation; and the strongest heart stands still, appalled and stricken in the presence of this overwhelming visitation. The ordinary course of things will not satisfy. The theme, which else had possessed for your ears a charming interest, is now utterly powerless to excite your attention, or call off your thoughts from the all-engrossing subject. There is a weight on the public heart. There is that undefined

feeling, which is half dread of the future, half regret for the past. Every man feels as if some terrible storm was gathering, some calamity impending; and no man knows what to do, or where to look for refuge and safety.

The telegraph brings the startling intelligence that the President is dead, dead! and by the hands of an assassin; and the first officer of the Government lies stricken in his bed, weak and helpless from his recent wounds. Had they died, or had thrice the number of our great men died, by some visitation of God, it had not cast such a gloom over the land; but that the very Head of the nation, the man upon whom all eyes were turned, should perish as he has, at the time that he has, is something so awful to contemplate, that it is no marvel that men stand aghast in very impotence, stunned and shocked as if smitten by a thunderbolt from heaven. Just at this auspicious hour, when a vision of peace was haunting our troubled dreams; when, on war's horrid front, a white-winged angel uplifted his banner between contending hosts, and waved back with either wing the tide of death and slaughter, oh, it is sad, that an assassin's arm should mar it, that all this blessed prospect should be dimmed and soiled with blood! - just when all eyes were turned to him, and the nation held its breath, waiting to hear from his lips, words which would be equivalent to all end of war and the dawn of peace; just when, North and South, all over the land, the cry of a devoted, stricken people, scourged, chastened and afflicted, came pouring into his ears; just when he was bending to listen, just then, alas! his ear can hear no more, his lips are mute, and can give no cheering answer.

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In the presence of this fearful fact; with this stupor, chaining our thoughts and actions, upon us; overwhelmed with ultimate hope and fear and dread,-what are we to do? One thing we are to do, if nothing else: we are to lay our hands upon our

mouths, and our mouths in the dust, and for the nation, and for ourselves, we are to cry, Unclean, unclean!

Never before in the history of the nation was there a time when, more than now, the spirit of moderation should rule in our hearts, dictate the words of our lips, and guide and conduct our actions.

In the first tidings of such an event as this, if we do not lay a heavy hand upon our hearts, and crush back whatever wrong emotion may swell within us, just so surely will we, by the terrible influence of uncontrolled passion, rush into sin. Hasty, impetuous, inconsiderate words will burn upon our lips, and feuds will be started which generations may not heal. Crimination will do no good. It will not benefit the dead, and will only harm the living. Let us learn from his pale lips, dead, what they would have taught us living, - calmness and moderation. The bitterest accusation cannot restore the dead. He is gone, and nothing is left but the deathless memory of his deeds. He cannot hear our flatteries: he is unmindful, if we traduce him. He is beyond the reach of human praise, outside the pale of human His high destiny is ended, his mission accomplished; and, whether for weal or woe, his name and influence will abide with this nation for ever.

censure.

I am here speaking of this great man, not to praise or to blame; to lay neither eulogy nor obloquy, neither flowers nor thorns, upon his coffin. This is neither the time nor the place for this. But, while you gather around his grave, I would have you still the storm within you, and bid all bitterness, and every thought of vengeance, go hide in his grave. I tell you, the highest, noblest tribute you can pay to his memory is to forget how he died, in the fact that he is dead. For, if he be the man we have been told he was; if he was actuated by the simple purpose of his country's good, — then he would have died, willingly died, if,

as he went to his grave, he could have taken from the hearts of the American people the malice and anger and bitterness and vengeance which are there, and left, in their place, calmness and the spirit of brotherly love and forbearance, the spirit of moderation and forgiveness.

Do not, then, let his death increase this evil. Rather let it sound a truce to the long, dark reign of these evil passions; and let the form of the dead President be the commanding presence which shall banish them for ever. While you give your tears to the dead, do not learn the more to hate the living. Remember your country. I appeal from the murdered President to the bleeding land; and, while you pay your duteous honors to the one, do not forget your duty to the other. Be calm; dispassionately consider all things; and, whatever conclusion you may reach, strengthen it by moderation. Do not discuss this sorrowful theme in hasty, angry sentences. Be silent, until reason resumes her sway, and you are free from the excitement and bias of this first intelligence.

I should not depart from my unvarying custom to introduce this matter here, but that I love you, and would save you from the violence of your own feelings. I am here unimpassioned, whatever I may be elsewhere, without feeling or purpose, save to try and keep out of your hearts the bitterness which this event is so calculated to excite. Only reflect that it can do no good, and it must do much harm. And, no matter how your execrations may follow the assassin into the dens and caves of the earth, do not let them go beyond him. Let this be their limit. Let human justice be done, and then leave him with his God. "Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord."

When the Saviour of sinners, from the sacred Olivet, ascended to heaven, he spread forth his hands, and this is his benison upon us: "Peace I leave with you: my peace I give unto you!" The

last words, and doubtless the last thoughts, of the President were of peace. God Almighty grant that the blessing he shall leave behind him, as his enduring monument, as his deathless glory, shall be peace to this war-worn nation! If this shall be the fruit of his labors, the priceless value of his life, then o'er his grave will shine a light more glorious than the grandeur of empire, or the pomp of power, - the splendor of his country's power reflected upon his tomb.

Brethren, if you loved the dead; if you still love the living; if you love our country, the land of your birth; if you love and long for the time when Peace shall spread her white wings over us, and under them a united people shall sing the songs of a better day, and mingle in fellowship and brotherly love, then let the thoughts of your hearts be buried with the dead, and the spirit of calm moderation and kindness guide and control you in this trying hour. Let the memory of your own dead come from the waste of years, and soften your roused hearts, and subdue your complaining spirits. Go, ask of the dark day which marked the committal of your kindred dust unto dust, and ashes to ashes, what was the lesson of death! When we stand by the open grave, it is no time to stir up the resentment of your hearts.

I bid you remember, that through the grave lies the journey to that God who claims vengeance as his own, and bids you avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath. Let this impress you. I bid you remember, that through the grave lies the journey to that bar at which you and I must stand, begging that vengeance may be stayed, and that mercy may uplift her ægis, and shield us from justice. Oh! then, standing by the grave of the great and noble dead, remember that coming hour, and be taught its lesson.

Come to the table of the blessed Lamb. In the high agony of the cross, he prayed a blessing upon his murderers! His

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