eople? 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 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, 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 and 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 remain 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 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 moves back as a speck, thou art lifted up as
high as the star is above the clouds that hide us, but never reach it.
In the goodly compan