'Tis to th' man, and th' man's honest worth, The Nation's loyalty in tears upsprings; Through him the soil of labor shines henceforth, High o'er the silken broideries of kings. The mechanism of eternal forms-- The shifts that courtiers put their bodies through-- Were alien ways to him: his brawny arms Had other work than posturing to do! [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN Photograph by Alexander Gardner, Washington, D. C., 1865] Rose Terry Cooke was born in West Hartford, Connecticut, February 17, 1827. Graduated at Hartford Female Seminary in 1843. She has written many short stories and a number of books of poems. ABRAHAM LINCOLN Hundreds there have been, loftier than their kind, Heroes and victors in the world's great wars: Hundreds, exalted as the eternal stars, By the great heart, or keen and mighty mind; There have been sufferers, maimed and halt and blind, Who bore their woes in such triumphant calm That God hath crowned them with the martyr's palm; And there were those who fought through fire to find Their Master's face, and were by fire refined. But who like thee, oh Sire! hath ever stood Steadfast for truth and right, when lies and wrong Rolled their dark waters, turbulent and strong; Who bore reviling, baseness, tears and blood Poured out like water, till thine own was spent, Then reaped Earth's sole reward--a grave and monument! [Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN Photograph by Brady, Washington, D. C., 1865] Frederick Lucian Hosmer, born at Framingham, Massachusetts, October 16, 1840. Graduated at Harvard in 1869. Ordained in Unitarian Ministry at Northboro, Massachusetts, in 1869. Author of _The Way of Life_, _The Thought of God, in Hymns and Poems_. LINCOLN The prairies to the mountains call, The mountains to the sea; From shore to shore a nation keeps Her martyr's memory. Though lowly born, the seal of God Was in that rugged face; Still from the humble Nazareths come The Saviours of the race. With patient heart and vision clear He wrought through trying days-- "Malice toward none, with Charity for all," Unswerved by blame or praise. And when the morn of peace broke through The battle's cloud and din, He hailed with joy the promised land, He might now enter in.