rooklyn, April
16th. 1865)

Again a great leader of the people has passed through toil, sorrow,
battle, and war, and come near to the promised land of peace, into
which he might not pass over. Who shall recount our martyr's
sufferings for this people? Since the November of 1860, his horizon
has been black with storms. By day and by night, he trod a way of
danger and darkness. On his shoulders rested a government dearer to
him than his own life. At its integrity millions of men were striking
at home. Upon this government foreign eyes lowered. 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 not on 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 hours of
defeat to the depths of despondency, he held on with unmovable
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, wherein God was cleansing the sin of his
people as by fire.

At last, the watcher beheld the gray dawn for the country. 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. But he 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 land, 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 watching; but thou art sphered high above all darkness and
fear, beyond all sorrow and weariness. Rest, O weary heart! Rejoice
exceedingly, thou that hast enough suffered! Thou hast beheld him
who invisibly 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