James Abram Garfield
James Abram Garfield.
O Hero-soul, that, God be thanked! hast taken
Thy flight at last from thy worn house of clay,
For thee the night is over; thou dost waken
From its long anguish to the perfect Day.
And thou hast learned the secret of that morrow,
And in its light canst read God’s purpose plain;
What now to thee, the suffering, the sorrow,
As thy rapt spirit counts the cost and gain.
Thou knowest now that trial was His token,
Thy meed of honor from His gracious hand
Who takes for victim on the altar broken,
But the unblemished that before Him stand.
O victim slain upon thy country’s altar;
Thou dost rejoice though all the land is woe!
For, North to South, true hearts fail not nor falter
In one great purpose, and the world shall know
That not in vain, shed for thy people’s healing—
So God from evil doth the good decree—
Thy martyr blood was poured: its drops are sealing
Our bond of love renewed, assured through thee!