Death of the President
Abraham Lincoln, the 16th President of the United States, is dead! Suddenly and without a moment’s warning, he had fallen, by the hand of an assassin! The morning of the 14th of April 1865 rose upon him full of hope; and all that anxious day his head and his heart were busy and strong, in what he fondly thought would bring speedy peace and rest to our disturbed and weary people; and the evening found him, amid the gay and joyous throng of hearts beating free with a sense of mighty national agonies endured and ended, and lending the welcome of his presence to the happy signs of returning peace. But in a moment how all is changed! The deadly bullet enters the brain, so busy with the future fate of this mighty nation, and it is paralyzed forever! Soon the heart grows still, and the man of all eyes—for whose words thirty millions of people were waiting in hushed breath and with fondest hope,—whose single mind held the secrets that nations were trembling to hear, and upon whose fiat the fortunes of agriculture and manufactures, and commerce and even civil liberty seemed to hang,—he from whose lips we were waiting to hear the potent spell of peace sound over the troubled waves of our stormy sea, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, lies dead, and powerless to speak to us for good or for ill—as though he had never been. He is dead and another ruleth in his stead. If there be any events in which Providence seems to challenge the world to serious and awful consideration; surely this is one of them. For the last four years, who can have occupied so much of public attention as the man who, as President of the United States, stood forth, the representative of the mightiest military power on Earth, in a storm of revolutionary conflict that seemed at times destined not only to drift the Christian world into war but to engulph in irremediable ruin the very temple of our political liberty. And now, just as this long and anxious struggle seemed about to terminate and we were looking for the answer of light and peace upon the face of this oracle of all the national wisdom in the cabinet and victory in field, to see it suddenly grow dark under the bloody hand of the assassin, and veiled forever in the night of a violent and untimely death,—the heads of nations must shudder under the shock of the awful disappointment,—and turn in their perplexity to God for wisdom and strength to read and bear the calamity of His providence aright.
Murder is a dark and damning crime no matter upon whom committed. If I maliciously or even wantonly take the life of the merest slavering idiot that barely vegetates in the light of life, I deserve to die for it; but to murder a people’s President!—this is to stab the nation’s heart,—to trample under foot “the awe and majesty” wherewith God hath clothed the “temporal power,” and count the people’s choice an unholy thing. The crime is not to be measured by human punishment. It outweighs the wrath of man. We can but vindicate the law and leave it to Him, who hath said “vengeance is mine;—I will repay.” Yet we know that for such, there is reserved the fire that is not quenched and the worm that never dies.
We are prone, under a great national blow like this, to ask Why God permitted it? and are apt perhaps to venture too boldly to anticipate its destined effects in the future; but we do not allow ourselves to enter upon the field of political conjecture. Let us rather look into our own hearts and see in this terrible national affliction a solemn warning to humble ourselves before the great Ruler, and implore more fervently and truly His guidance and protection. The Lord hath not smitten this people so heavily and thus in the moment of exulting hope, without reason. We need a purification, before the land can be fully blest. Let us inquire wherein we have come short and sinned before our God, and with true repentance fall down in the dust before Him, and He will surely lift upon us the light of His countenance and give us peace.
W. K. Pendleton (1817-1899)
The Millennial Harbinger
1865