And now we weep-- Weep that a nation’s sins have laid him low-- Weep that our proud crimes thus have brought him low-- Grieve o’er his peaceful sleep, Wrought by the vile assassin’s vengeful blow. And well may tears, The agony of blood, and ever-during shame-- Tears of remorse and never-ceasing shame, Flow on through endless years, And consecrate for aye his deathless name. The kingliest name That graced our living earth’s historic page-- Gilding anew the old historic page Of all her deeds of fame-- The crowning soul--the glory of our age. Stricken and low! Aye, let us weep--weep for the guilt and crime-- The ingrate sense--the coward guilt and crime! Dissolve in tears and woe The darkling horrors of this monstrous time! His name breathe not, His thrice-accursèd name, whose brutal hand-- Whose foul, polluted heart and brutal hand A demon’s purpose wrought, And whelmed in grief our glad, rejoicing land. No fame be his! His crime too dark for name, too vile for scorn-- A nameless deed of guilt, too vile for scorn-- Oblivion’s dread abyss Be his abode, through ages still unborn! To Thee, Great God! We bow our stricken hearts, and lift our cry-- Humble our prostrate souls and bring our cry; We feel Thy chastening rod-- Oh! grant Thy loving favor ere we die! We see Thy hand! Through all these years Thy ruling hand was shown-- In war’s dread flame Thy mighty hand was shown! Our torn and bleeding Land Felt Thy protecting arm around her thrown. Yet our proud heart Was still uplifted, full of vaunting boasts-- Claiming the victory with our selfish boasts, Till vengeance’ sudden dart Struck down the mightiest from our chosen hosts. And then we saw-- Saw through the tears and anguish of our pain-- Our quickened flood of grief and blinding pain-- The fiat of Thy law The joy and clamor of our pride restrain! Humbly we kneel! Oh! guide us still, our Father, through the sea! Our way has led us through a great Red Sea! And we have felt the seal Of blood’s baptizing--pensioned thus of Thee! Now through a year Of unspent sorrow, still we gaze and weep; Still in our grief we backward gaze and weep-- Still tremble in our fear, And shudder o’er fresh phantoms as we sleep. And still we look Forth to the future with a nameless dread-- Still the dark problem fills our path with dread; Time’s yet unwritten book Hangs ponderous and fearful o’er our head. Our leader slain; Our greater Moses laid in smouldering dust, A nation’s heart bowed with him in the dust, We turn our hope in vain To seek a chieftain worthy of his trust.