God sometimes sends From out His boundless treasure-house of life A God-like man; And when He gave Unto our land the life we honor now, He had a plan. The times were ripe; Men's troubled hearts cried out for one to lead, One staunch and true, And then arose This human soul who fathered his great flock As God would do. Men clung on him As the soft, white snow clings to the leafless trees When Winter reigns; His sorrows weighed As the frosted down weights deep each naked bough Which bends, sustains. He knew men's hearts, And, knowing them, he had no eyes for shame, But saw their best; His own great soul Oft groaned in solitude for those he knew Were sore oppressed. When Strife's sharp claws Had torn the States as wild-cats rend their prey, He soothed each wound; His was the hand That loosed the shackles from a subject race, The blacks unbound. His spirit proved That man is more than simply moulded dust; He mirrored God; And angels wept With finite men when he was laid at rest Beneath the sod. |