n its path
To warring hemisphere of hate.

Between the thunder-clouds he stood;
He harked to Ruin's battle-drum,
And cried in patriot hardihood,
"Why do I wait? My hour has come!

"Was it my fate, my lot, my woe
To be the Ruler of the land,
Nor own my oath that long ago
I swore upon this heart and hand?

"That vow, like barb from bowman's string,
Shall pierce sedition's secret plea:
God grant the bloodless blow shall sting
Till brother's quarrels cease to be!

"Should once the sudden wound provoke
New strife in anger's zone
The clash may be the penal stroke
That makes a new Republic one."

He wrote his Message--clear as light,
And bolder than a king's command--
And when war's whirlwinds spent their might
There was no bondman in the land.

[Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN

Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C.,
January 24, 1863]

TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN

_January 1, 1863_

Lincoln, that with thy steadfast truth the sand
Of men and time and circumstance dost sway!
The slave-cloud dwindles on this golden day,
And over all the pestilent southern land,
Breathless, the dark expectant millions stand,
To watch the northern sun rise on its way,
Cleaving the stormy distance--every ray
Sword-bright, sword-sharp, in God's invisible hand.

Better with this great end, partial defeat,
And jibings of the ignorant worldly-wise,
Than laud and triumph won with shameful blows.
The dead Past lies in its dead winding-sheet;
The living Present droops with tearful eyes;
But far beyond the awaiting Future glows.

_Edmund Ollier, in London (Eng.) Morning Star._

[Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN

Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C.]

Charles G. Foltz was born at West Winfield, Herkimer County, New York,
September 9, 1837. Hi