President Lincoln, he has died,
And gone to swell the upper tide;
He on the earth will move on more—
He's landed on the Heavenly shore.

Oh! how we were surprised to hear
The news that brought the mournful tear;
The President, he is no more,
He's resting on the peaceful shore.

He, in the midst of useful life,
Was called away from sin and strife;
His earnest labors here are done,
His spirit now outshines the sun.

How unexpected was the stroke,
That has removed the centre spoke;
The wheel on which this nation hung,
Has stopped it's course—it's work is done.

Reward was offered for his life,
But now he's gone to Paradise.
Just like the Saviour he was sold,
For shining silver or for gold.

Before the inaugural day,
They tried to take his life away;
To save his life, he went by night—
Like Christ, was taken in his flight.

'Twas on the crucifixion day,
They thought to take his life away;
But on that day he did not die,
He lives and reigns above the sky.

On Friday night the deed was done,
In absence of the shining sun.
On Saturday the spirit fled
To join the throng where Christ is head.

The nation mourns—his loss we feel,
But unto God we all must yield.
Why it was done no one can tell—
With him we know that all is well.

He'll meet his Cabinet here no more;
He's entered through the upper door,
Where peace and joy will always reign,
And this our loss must be his gain.

On Wednesday was his funeral day,
His body then was laid away—
A lifeless lump of earthly clay,
To rest until the rising day.

The cities all, both great and small,
Were draped with mourning one and all,
In honor of their worthy friend,
Who came to such a dreadful end.

The flags, throughout the nation, stood
Half-mast for him, the great and good;
The bells that toll'd the funeral knell—
The sound which echoed, all is well.

For thirty days the mourning hung
In honor of our sainted one;
The body was removed at noon,
Then rested in the silent gloom.

The family tie on earth is broke—
They all must feel the mournful stroke,
For him whose spirit now is fled,
And gone to rest among the dead.

Oh! may the widow still be bless'd
With happiness through her distress,
Until she meets her friend on high,
Where they will never, never, die.

How many friends, both far and near,
Will drop a sympathizing tear
For him whose race is now complete,
And seated near the mercy seat.

Nothing since this our nation's birth
Can be compared with Lincoln's worth;
The loss to us is now so great,
It is impossible to state.

His place is filled by one whose heart
Will carry out the Lincoln chart,
And sail the nation's ship at last,
To anchor where she will be fast.

The banner placed on Sumter's top,
Will never, never, be forgot;
And Lincoln's memory will run,
And brighten like the noonday sun.

The Union flag will wave at last,
Throughout the States upon her mast,
And tell to all the nations round,
That Lincoln has this blessing crown'd.

The country would be lost indeed,
If Providence had not decreed
That Lincoln now, though in his grave,
Should be the one who was to save.

He's gone to his reward above,
In joy and peace and endless love;
Where he will rest, forever rest,
And lean upon the Saviour's breast.

The army feels his loss indeed,—
They looked to him to take the lead;
They followed him, and thought it best,
But now he's gone to take his rest.

“I'll save the Union, slaves and all,
If it can be without it's fall;
But if I cannot save them all,
Then, as to slavery, it must fall.”

Save Slavery and the Union too?—
He saw that it would never do.
All must be free, forever free,
And then the Union will agree.

Four millions of the human race,
Redeemed from bondage and disgrace,
Through Abraham Lincoln, their dear friend,
By whom their bondage now must end.

He was the slave's dear friend, indeed,
In him they found a friend in need;
To save them from the rugged chain,
That bound them down so long in pain.

His love and kindness to the poor—
He did not turn them from his door;
But gave them all a kind relief,
And let them so depart in peace.

In works of charity and love,
Like Him who reigns in heaven above,
Extended to the human race,
Without regard to time or place.

He loved to supplicate the throne,
And get support from God alone;
Pour out his sorrows and complaints,
Before the Lord, who loves his saints.

This great Republic, once so fair,
Was not forgotten in his prayer,—
That God would take its cause in hand,
And join them in the Union band.

Lincoln was mild, and meek and good,
Like Moses who on Pisgah stood;
He thought upon the peaceful plan,
That must take place throughout the land.

The affliction to the nation sent,
Should lead them truly to repent;
And teach us all throughout the land,
To bow submissive to His hand.

Through eighteen hundred and sixty-five,
The President did not survive:
He's called away to take his seat,
Above this world, where angels meet.

President Lincoln passed away,
On Saturday, or seventh day.
He's gone to join the martyr's band,
Around the throne at God's right hand.

The President is now on high,
In that blest world above the sky;
Where all the friends of freedom meet,
All clothed in light, and bliss complete.

Although the President is gone,
The cause of freedom will go on,
Until we meet our worthy friend,
In that blest world where troubles end.

He had a penetrating mind,—
Superior, dignified and kind.
He judged the future by the past,
And all he did was done to last.

He filled the Presidential chair,
With dignity from year to year;
Until by death he was cut down,
And went on high to wear the crown.

His Messages to us are done,
His battle fought, the victory won;
United now with all the bless'd—
In Heaven his everlasting rest.

President Lincoln's name will last,
Till days and years and time are past;
When all things on the earth are done,
He'll still be shining like the sun.

The country, now restored to peace,
May it go on and never cease,
Until we meet on Canaan's shore,
Where war and tumult is no more.