A PRAISE beyond all other praise of ours
This nation holds in jealous trust for him
Who may approve himself, even in these dim,
Swift days of destiny, the soul that towers
Above the turmoil of contending powers,
A beacon firm, while seas of fury brim
The world's long-labored fields and vineyards trim,
Remembering forests and unconscious flowers.
Our nation longs for such a living light,
Kindred to stars and their eternal dreams,
A steadfast glow whatever breakers roll,
Cleaving confusions of the stormy night
With gracious lusters and revealing gleams,
—Longs for the shining of a Lincoln soul.