Who trusts the strength will with the burden grow,
That God makes instruments to work his will,

If but that will we can arrive to know,

Nor temper with the weights of good and ill.

So he went forth to battle, on the side

That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's,

As in his peasant boyhood he had plied

His warfare with rude Nature's thwarting mights;

The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil,

The iron bark that turns the lumberer's axe,
The rapid, that o'erbears the boatman's toil,
The prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks;

The ambushed Indian, and the prowling bear-
Such were the needs that helped his youth to train;
Rough culture-but such trees large fruit may bear,
If but their stocks be of right girth and grain.

So he grew up, a destined work to do,

And lived to do it: four long-suffering years, Ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report lived through,

And then he heard the hisses changed to cheers;

The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise,

And took both with the same unwavering mood:

Till, as he came on light, from darkling days,

And seemed to touch the goal from where he stood;

A felon had, between the goal and him,

Reached from behind his back, a trigger prestAnd those perplexed and patient eyes were dim, Those gaunt, long-labored limbs were laid to rest!

The words of mercy were upon his lips,

Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen,
When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse
To thoughts of peace on earth, good-will to men.

The Old World and the New, from sea to sea,

Utter one voice of sympathy and shame!
Sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high;
Sad life, cut short just as its triumph came.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

FOULLY ASSASSINATED, APRIL 14, 1865.

(From the London Punch.)

You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier,
You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace,
Broad for the self-complacent British sneer,

His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face;

His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair,
His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease,

His lack of all we prize as debonair,

Of power or will to shine, of art to please.

You, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh,
Judging each step, as though the way were plain;
Reckless, so it could point its paragraph,

Of chief's perplexity, or people's pain.

Beside this corpse, that bears for winding-sheet
The stars and stripes he lived to rear anew,
Between the mourners at his head and feet,
Say, scurrile jester, is there room for you?

Yes, he had lived to shame me from my sneer,
To lame my pencil, and confute my pen-
To make me own this hind of princes peer,
This rail-splitter a true-born king of men.

My shallow judgment I had learnt to rue,
Noting how to occasion's height he rose,
How his quaint wit made home-truth seem more true,
How, iron-like, his temper grew by blows.

How humble, yet how hopeful he could be—
How in good-fortune and in ill the same:
Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he,

Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame.

He went about his work--such work as few

Ever had laid on head and heart and hand

As one who knows, where there's a task to do,

Man's honest will must Heaven's good grace command;

Who trusts the strength will with the burden grow, That God makes instruments to work his will,

If but that will we can arrive to know,

Nor temper with the weights of good and ill.

So he went forth to battle, on the side

That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's, As in his peasant boyhood he had plied

His warfare with rude Nature's thwarting mights;

The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil,

The iron bark that turns the lumberer's axe,
The rapid, that o'erbears the boatman's toil,
The prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks;

The ambushed Indian, and the prowling bear-
Such were the needs that helped his youth to train;
Rough culture-but such trees large fruit may bear,
If but their stocks be of right girth and grain.

So he grew up, a destined work to do,

And lived to do it: four long-suffering years, Ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report lived through,

And then he heard the hisses changed to cheers;

The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise,

And took both with the same unwavering mood:

Till, as he came on light, from darkling days,

And seemed to touch the goal from where he stood;

A felon had, between the goal and him,

Reached from behind his back, a trigger prestAnd those perplexed and patient eyes were dim, Those gaunt, long-labored limbs were laid to rest!

The words of mercy were upon his lips,

Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen,
When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse
To thoughts of peace on earth, good-will to men.

The Old World and the New, from sea to sea,
Utter one voice of sympathy and shame!
Sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high;
Sad life, cut short just as its triumph came.

CHAPTER XVIII.

REMINISCENCES AND ANECDOTES OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN.*

Mr. Lincoln's Christian Experiences, and Christian Sentiments.—His firmness.-The Pardoning Power.-Mr. Lincoln's love of Homer.-His Memory. His aptness of Expression.-The Emancipation Proclamation. -His "Little Story," at the Peace Conference.-His Justification of the Amnesty Proclamation.-He loses his temper for once.-His relations with the People.-His tenderness of heart.-His faithful admonition. Mr. Lincoln "Pokes" on Kentucky neutrality.-Reminiscences of President Lincoln by an old associate and friend.-His simplicity and artlessnesss of character. His native dignity.—His desire for knowledge.-His modesty. His personal fearlessness of danger. His kindness of heart. His honesty.-Incidents of his visit to the Army of the Potomac.-Absence of mind.-He watches events.He remembers his friends.--His little stories.-His power of memory.-His literary tastes and habits.

MR. LINCOLN'S CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCES AND SENTIMENTS.

"A lady interested in the work of the Christian Commission, had occasion, in the prosecution of her duties, to have several interviews with the President of a business nature. He was much impressed with the devotion and earnestness of purpose she manifested, and on one occasion, after she had discharged the object of her visit, he leaned back in his chair and said to her: Mrs., I have formed a very high opinion of your Christian character, and now, as we are alone, I have a mind to

* For most of the anecdotes, forming the first portion of this chapter, we are indebted to Mr. Carpenter's interesting papers in the Independent and elsewhere. Mr. Carpenter's excellent opportunies of free and unrestrained intercourse with Mr. Lincoln, while an inmate of his family, give an especial value to his recollections, which does not attach to many of the stories and sayings which popular rumor attributes (though erroneously) to the late President.

ask you to give me, in brief, your idea of what constitutes a true religious experience.' The lady replied at some length, stating that, in her judgment, it consisted of a conviction of one's own sinfulness and weakness, and personal need of the Saviour for strength and support; that views of mere doctrine might and would differ, but when one was really brought to feel his need of divine help, and to seek the aid of the Holy Spirit for strength and guidance, it was satisfactory evidence of his having been born again. This was the substance of her reply. When she had concluded, Mr. Lincoln was very thoughtful for a few moments. He at length said very earnestly, 'If what you have told me is really a correct view of this great subject, I think I can say with sincerity, that I hope I am a Christian. I had lived,' he continued, 'until my boy Willie died, without realizing fully these things. That blow overwhelmed me. It showed me my weakness as I had never felt it before, and if I can take what you have stated as a test, I think I can safely say that I know something of that change of which you speak, and I will further add, that it has been my intention for some time, at a suitable opportunity, to make a public religious profession!'"

"As a ruler," says Bishop Simpson, "I doubt if any President has ever showed such trust in God, or in public documents so frequently referred to divine aid. Often did he remark to friends and delegations that his hope for our success rested in his conviction that God would bless our efforts, because we were trying to do right. To the address of a large religious body, he replied, 'Thanks be unto God, who in our national trials giveth us the churches.' To a minister who said he hoped the Lord was on our side,' he replied 'that it gave him no concern whether the Lord was on our side or not,' for he added, 'I know the Lord is always on the side of right;' and with deep feeling added, 'but God is my witness that it is my constant anxiety and prayer that both myself and this nation should be on the Lord's side." "