Identifier: completeworkv7linc (find matches)
Title: Complete works of Abraham Lincoln
Year: 1905 (1900s)
Authors: Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 Nicolay, John G. (John George), 1832-1901 Hay, John, 1838-1905 Fish, Daniel, 1848-1924. Lincoln bibliography Gilder, Richard Watson, 1844-1909
Subjects: Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865
Publisher: New York : Lamb Pub. Co.
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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issad and tragic face. Nothing discloses real character like the use ofpower. It is easy for the weak to be gentle. Mostpeople can bear adversity. But if you wish toknow what a man really is, give him power.This is the supreme test. It is the glory ofLincoln that, having almost absolute power,he never abused it, except on the side of mercy. Influence of Lincoln li Wealth could not purchase, power could notawe, this divine, this loving man. He knew no fear except the fear of doingwrong. Hating slavery, pitying the master—seeking to conquer, not persons, but prejudices—he was the embodiment of the self-denial, thecourage, the hope and the nobility of a Nation. He spoke not to inflame, not to upbraid, butto convince. He raised his hands, not to strike, but in bene-diction. He longed to pardon. He loved to see the pearls of joy on the cheeksof a wife whose husband he had rescued fromdeath. Lincoln was the grandest figure of the fiercestcivil war. He is the gentlest memory of ourworld.
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Lincolns Grave1 By Maurice Thompson May one who fought in honor for the SouthUncovered stand and sing by Lincolns grave ?Why, if I shrunk not at the cannons mouth,Nor swerved one inch for any battle-wave,Should I now tremble in this quiet close,Hearing the prairie wind go lightly byFrom billowy plains of grass and miles of corn, While out of deep reposeThe great sweet spirit lifts itself on highAnd broods above our land this summer morn ? Meseems I feel his presence. Is he dead? Death is a word. He lives and grander grows. At Gettysburg he bows his bleeding head; He spreads his arms where Chickamauga flows, As if to clasp old soldiers to his breast, Of South or North no matter which they be, Not thinking of what uniform they wore, His heart a palimpsest,Record on record of humanity, 1 From a poem read before the Phi Beta Kappa Society ofHarvard University. liii liv Abraham Lincoln Where love is first and last forevermore. He was the Southern mother leaning forth, At dead of night to h

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