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;
Chiefs, uplifted to the Lord
When all the kings of earth are 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 mottled 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 molded outline plays about;
A pitying flame, beyond our trace,
Breathes like a spirit, in and out--

The love that casts an aureole
Round one who, longer to endure,
Called mirth to cease 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.

What better than this voiceless cast
To tell of such a one as he,
Since through its living semblance passed
The thought that bade a race be free?

[Illustration: HON. ABRAHAM LINCOLN, REPUBLICAN CANDIDATE FOR
THE PRESIDENCY, 1860

Painted by Hicks; lithograph by L. Grozelier; published by
W. Schaus, New York, 1860; printed by J. H. Bufford, Boston]

[Illustration: THE "WIGWAM"

Convention Hall, at Chicago, 1860, in whi