So, let us thank Thee, with all self aside, Nor any lingering taint of mortal pride; As here to Thee we dare Uplift our faltering prayer, Lend it some fervor of the glorified. We thank Thee that our land is loved of Thee The blessèd home of thrift and industry, With ever-open door Of welcome to the poor-- Thy shielding hand o'er all abidingly. Even thus we thank Thee for the wrong that grew Into a right that heroes battled to, With brothers long estranged, Once more as brothers ranged Beneath the red and white and starry blue. Ay, thanks--though tremulous the thanks expressed-- Thanks for the battle at its worst, and best-- For all the clanging fray Whose discord dies away Into a pastoral song of peace and rest. WILLIAM PINKNEY FISHBACK Say first he loved the dear home-hearts, and then He loved his honest fellow citizen-- He loved and honored him, in any post Of duty where he served mankind the most. All that he asked of him in humblest need Was but to find him striving to succeed; All that he asked of him in highest place Was justice to the lowliest of his race. When he found these conditions, proved and tried, He owned he marvelled, but was satisfied-- Relaxed in vigilance enough to smile And, with his own wit, flay himself a while. Often he liked real anger--as, perchance, The summer skies like storm-clouds and the glance Of lightning--for the clearer, purer blue Of heaven, and the greener old earth, too. All easy things to do he did with care, Knowing the very common danger there; In noblest conquest of supreme debate The facts are simple as the victory great. That which had been a task to hardiest minds To him was as a pleasure, such as finds The captive-truant, doomed to read throughout The one lone book he really cares about. Study revived him: Howsoever dim And deep the problem, 'twas a joy to him To solve it wholly; and he seemed as one Refreshed and rested as the work was done. And he had gathered, from all wealth of lore That time has written, such a treasure store, His mind held opulence--his speech the rare Fair grace of sharing all his riches there-- Sharing with all, but with the greatest zest Sharing with those who seemed the neediest: The young he ever favored; and through these Shall he live longest in men's memories. JOHN CLARK RIDPATH To the lorn ones who loved him first and best, And knew his dear love at its tenderest, We seem akin--we simplest friends who knew His fellowship, of heart and spirit too: We who have known the happy summertide Of his ingenuous nature, glorified With the inspiring smile that ever lit The earnest face and kindly strength of it: