face of the continent with the sword's point in the blood of our best and most beloved.
We believe the agony of the slave's hovel, the mother, and the husband, when it takes its seat at our board.
We realize the barbarism that crushed him in the sickening and brutal use of the relics of Bull Run
, in the torture and starvation of Libby Prison, where idiocy was mercy, and death was God's best blessing; and now, still more bitterly, we realize it in the coward spite which strikes an unarmed man, unwarned, behind his back, in the assassin fingers which dabble with bloody knife at the throats of old men on sick pillows.
O God, let this lesson be enough!
Spare us any more such costly teaching!
This deed is but the result and fair representative of the system in whose defence it was done.
No matter whether it was previously approved at Richmond
, or whether the assassin, if he reaches the Confederates
, be received with all honor, as the wretch Brooks
was, and as this bloodier wretch will surely be wherever rebels are not dumb with fear of our cannon.
No matter for all this.
God shows this terrible act to teach the nation in unmistakable terms the terrible foe with which it has to deal.
But for this fiendish spirit, North and South, which holds up the rebellion, the assassin had never either wished or dared such a deed.
This lurid flash only shows us how black and wide the cloud from which it sprung.
And what of him in whose precious blood this momentous lesson is writ?
He sleeps in the blessings of the poor, whose fetters God commissioned him to break.
Give prayers and tears to the desolate widow and the fatherless; but count him blessed far above the crowd of his fellow-men.
[Fervent cries of “Amen!” ] He was permitted himself to deal the last staggering blow which sent rebellion reeling to its grave; and then, holding his darling boy by the hand, to walk the streets of its surrendered