The sacred Cloister of our souls The lamp that thou didst consecrate And gave Into our most solemn keeping To illuminate the fair pages of our lives, And shed Its holy light upon the path That lies along the shimmering moon-beams of the sky, Upon whose silver stair Expectant angels wait; Whose luminous wings enfold us round about, Bearing our happy souls Beyond the sapphire gates To the home From whence we came _We are as one to thee!_ _And all the thinking, reasoning nations Of the earth!_ Once only In the history of this nation, The floor of the senate chamber Dedicated to justice and liberty, Is stained with the blood Of a martyr! He lay helpless and lifeless along that floor, Like an Athenian warrior Slain upon the altar of his country! His grand, proud head Dyed with the crimson tide Of his own life blood! His pale, cold face, and white soundless lips Appealing in their speechless agony To the banner of his country, that hung in starry folds Above his head! The hand that smote him to the earth, Severed the life-chord of his Physical well-being! But, Out of the blood, Out of the turmoil, the warfare and Passionate strivings, Out of the pain and anguish, Out of the ruin and solitude, Out of the great silence that lay upon his life, There rose up A spirit of grandeur With the thews and sinews of Divine wisdom! A grander, nobler, truer manhood Wrought out of the fires Of anguish and pain! A wisdom that has gone its slow, sure round Upon the wheels of time, Calling out of your own nation a full man To sit in the chair Of him who smote your patriot and friend At his post of duty!