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the part of order against a chaos of controversy; its success brings with it true reconcilement, a lasting peace, a continuous growth of confidence through an assimilation of the social condition. Here is the fitting expression of the mourning of to-day. And let no lover of his country say that this warning is uncalled for. The cry is delusive that slavery is dead. Even now it is nerving itself for a fresh struggle for continuance.

No sentiment of despair may mix with our sorrow. We owe it to the memory of the dead, we owe it to the cause of popular liberty throughout the world, that the sudden crime which has taken the life of the President of the United States shall not produce the least impediment in the smooth course of public affairs. This great city, in the midst of unexampled emblems of deeply-seated grief, has sustained itself with composure and magnanimity. It has nobly done its part in guarding against the derangement of business or the slightest shock to public credit. The enemies of the republic put it to the severest trial, but the voice of faction has not been heard-doubt and despondency have been unknown. In serene majesty the country rises in the beauty and strength and hope of youth, and proves to the world the quiet energy and the durability of institutions growing out of the reason and affection of the people. Heaven has willed it that the United States shall live. The nations of the earth cannot spare them. All the worn-out aristocracies of Europe saw in the spurious feudalism of slaveholding their strongest outpost, and banded themselves together with the deadly enemies of our national life. If the Old World will discuss the respective advantages of oligarchy or equality; of the union of church and state, or the rightful freedom of religion; of land accessible to the many or of land monopolized by an ever-decreasing number of the few, the United States must live to control the decision by their quiet and unobtrusive example. It has often and truly been observed that the trust and affection of the masses gather naturally round an individual; if the inquiry is made whether the man so trusted and beloved shall elicit from the reason of the people enduring institutions of their own, or shall sequester political power for a superintending dynasty, the United States must live to solve the problem. If a question is raised on the respective merits of TIMOLEON or JULIUS CAESAR, of WASHINGTON OF NAPOLEON, the United States must be there to call to mind that there were twelve Cæsars, most of them the opprobrium of the human race, and to contrast with them the line of American presidents.

"The duty of the hour is incomplete, our mourning is insincere if, while we express unwavering trust in the great principles that underlie our government, we do not also give our support to the man to whom the people have entrusted its administration. "ANDREW JOHNSON is now, by the constitution, the President of the United States, and he stands before the world as the most

conspicuous representative of the industrial classes. Left an orphan at four years old, poverty and toil were his steps to honor. His youth was not passed in the halls of colleges; nevertheless he has received a thorough political education in statesmanship in the school of the people and by long experience of public life. A village functionary; member successively of each branch of the Tennessee legislature, hearing with a thrill of joy the words: 'The Union, it must be preserved;' a representative in Congress for successive years; Governor of the great State of Tennessee, approved as its Governor by re-election; he was at the opening of the Rebellion a Senator from that State in Congress. Then at the Capitol, when Senators, unrebuked by the government, sent word by telegram to seize forts and arsenals, he alone from that Southern region told them what the government did not dare to tell them, that they were traitors, and deserved the punishment of treason. Undismayed by a perpetual purpose of public enemies to take his life, bearing up against the still greater trial of the persecution of his wife and children, in due time he went back to his State, determined to restore it to the Union, or die with the American flag for his winding sheet. And now, at the call of the United States, he has returned to Washington as a conqueror, with Tennessee as a Free State for his trophy. It remains for him to consummate the vindication of the Union.

"To that Union ABRAHAM LINCOLN has fallen a martyr. His death, which was meant to sever it beyond repair, binds it more closely and more firmly than ever. The blow aimed at him, was aimed not at the native of Kentucky, not at the citizen of Illinois, but at the man who, as President, in the executive branch of the government, stood as the representative of every man in the United States. The object of the crime was the life of the whole people; and it wounds the affections of the whole people. From Maine to the southwest boundary on the Pacific, it makes us one. The country may have needed an imperishable grief to touch its inmost feeling. The grave that receives the remains of LINCOLN, receives the martyr to the Union; the monument which will rise over his body will bear witness to the Union; his enduring memory will assist during countless ages to bind the States together, and to incite to the love of our one undivided, individual country. Peace to the ashes of our departed friend, the friend of his country and his race. Happy was his life, for he was the restorer of the republic; he was happy in his death, for the manner of his end will plead forever for the union of the States and the freedom of man."



On Sunday, April 23d, 1865, the Plymouth street Church, Brooklyn, was filled to overflowing long before

the hour of service, it having been announced that Mr. Beecher would deliver an appropriate sermon on the event which had cast the nation into mourning. Thousands were turned away, and hundreds hung about the outer door in the vain hope of hearing. The church was very neatly and effectively draped in black and white, and upon the pastor's desk was placed a basket of beautiful flowers. At half-past ten Mr. Beecher went to his platform, the whole of which was occupied by men and women, while small boys fringed the front.

After the reading of the 90th Psalm, and conducting the ordinary services of invocation and praise, Mr. Beecher delivered the following


Taking for his text the first five verses of the last chapter of Deuteronomy:

1. And Moses went up from the plains of Moab, unto the Mountains of Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, that is over against Jericho; and the Lord showed him the land of Gilead, unto Dan.

2. And all Naphtali, and the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah, unto the utmost sea.

3. And the South, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, and the city of palm trees, unto Zoar.

4. And the Lord said unto him, This is the land which I sware unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, saying I will give it unto thy seed; I have caused thee to see It with thine eyes, but thou shalt not go over thither.

5. So Moses, the servant of the Lord, died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord.

"There is no historic figure more noble than that of the Jewish lawgiver. After many thousand years, the figure of Moses is not diminished, but stands up against the background of early days, distinct and individual as if he lived but yesterday. There is scarcely another event in history more touching than his death. He had borne the great burdens of state for forty years, shaped the Jews to a nation, filled out their civil and religious polity, administered their laws, and guided their steps, or dwelt with them in all their sojourning in the wilderness, had mourned in their punishment, kept step with their marches and led them in wars, until the end of their labors drew nigh, the last stages were reached, and Jordan only lay between them and the promised land.

The Promised Land! Oh, what yearnings had heaved his breast for that Divinely promised place! He had dreamed of it by night and mused by day; it was holy, and endeared as God's favored spot; it was to be the cradle of an illustrious history.

All his long, laborious and now weary life, he had aimed at this as the consummation of every desire, the reward of every toil and pain. Then came the word of the Lord to him, 'Thou must not go over, Get thee up into the mountain, look upon it and die.' From that silent summit the hoary leader gazed to the North, to the South, to the West, with hungry eyes. The dim outlines rose up, the hazy recesses spoke of quiet valleys. With eager longing, with sad resignation, he looked upon the promised land, that was now the forbidden land. It was a moment's anguish. He forgot all his personal wants and drank in the vision of his people's home. His work was done. There lay God's promise fulfilled. There was the seat of coming Jerusalem, there the city of Jehovah's King, the sphere of judges and prophets, the mount of sorrow and salvation, the country whence were to fly blessings to all mankind. Joy chased sadness from every feature, and the prophet lay him down and died.

"Again, a great leader of the people has passed through toil, sorrow, battle and war, and came near to the promised land of peace, into which he might not pass over. Who shall recount our martyr's sufferings for the people? Since the November of 1860, his horizon has been black with storms. By day and by night he trod its way of danger and darkness. On his shoulders rested a Government, dearer to him than his own life. At its life millions were striking at home; upon us foreign eyes were lowered, and it stood like a lone island in a sea full of storms, and every tide and wave seemed eager to devour it. Upon thousands of hearts great sorrows and anxieties have rested, but upon not one such and in such measure, as upon that simple, truthful, noble soul, our faithful and sainted Lincoln. Never rising to the enthusiasm of more impassioned natures in hours of hope, and never sinking with the mercurial in the hours of defeat to the depths of despondency, he held on with immovable patience and fortitude, putting caution against hope that it might not be premature, and hope against caution that it might not yield to dread and danger. He wrestled ceaselessly through four black and dreadful purgatorial years, when God was cleansing the sins of this people as by fire.

"At last the watchman beheld the grey dawn. The mountains began to give forth their forms from out the darkness, and the East came rushing toward us with arms full of joy for all our sorrows, Then it was for him to be glad exceedingly that had sorrowed immeasurably. Peace could bring to no other heart such joy, such rest, such honor, such trust, such gratitude. He but looked upon it as Moses looked upon the promised land. Then the wail of a nation proclaimed that he had gone from among us. Not thine the sorrow, but ours. Sainted soul, thou hast indeed entered the promised rest, while we are yet on the march. To us remains the rocking of the deep, the storm upon the land, days of duty and nights of watch

ing; but thou art sphered high above all darkness and fear, beyond all sorrow or weariness. Rest, oh weary heart! Rejoice exceedingly, thou that hast enough suffered. Thou hast beheld Him who invariably led thee in this great wilderness. Thou standest among the elect; around thee are the royal men that have ennobled human life in every age; kingly art thou, with glory on thy brow as a diadem, and joy is upon thee for evermore !

Over all this land, over all the little cloud of years that now from thine infinite horizon waver back from thee as a spark, thou art lifted up as high as the star is above the clouds that hide us, but never reach it. In the goodly company of Mount Zion thou shall find that rest which so many have sought in vain, and thy name, an everlasting name in heaven, shall flourish in fragrance and beanty as long as men shall last upon the earth, or hearts remain to revere truth, fidelity and goodness. Never did two such orbs of experience meet in one hemisphere as the joy and sorrow of the same week in this land. The joy was as sudden as if no man had expected it, and as entrancing as if it had fallen from heaven. It rose up over sobriety, and swept business from its moorings, and ran down through the land in irresistible course. Men wept and embraced each other; they sang or prayed, or, deeper yet, could only think thanksgiving and weep gladness.

"That peace was sure, that Government was firmer than ever, the land was cleansed of plague, that ages were opening to our footsteps and we were to begin a march of blessings, that blood was staunched and scowling enmities sinking like spent storms beneath the horizon; that the dear fatherland, nothing lost, much gained, was to rise up in unexampled honor among the nations of the earth-these thoughts, and that undistinguishable throng of fancies, and hopes, and desires, and yearnings, that filled the soul with tremblings like the heated air of midsummer days-all these kindled up such a surge of joy as no words may describe. In an hour, joy lay without a pulse, without a gleam, or breath. A sorrow came that swept through the land, as huge storms sweep through the forest and field, rolling thunder along the skies, disheveling the flames and daunting every singer in the thicket or forest, and pouring blackness and darkness across the land and up the mountains. Did ever so many hearts in so brief a time touch two such boundless feelings? It was the uttermost of joy and the uttermost of sorrow-noon and midnight, without space between.

"The blow brought not a sharp pang. It was so terrible that at first it stunned sensibility. Citizens were like men awakened at midnight by an earthquake, and bewildered to find every thing that they were accustomed to trust wavering and falling. The very earth was no longer solid. The first feeling was the least. Men waited to get strength to feel. They wandered in the street as if groping after some impending dread or unde

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