A statue of the soul's strength.
There is a ritual which the inarticulate communion of all natural things repeats—the languages of the leaf and flower; the sweet blossom of spring and the sweeter sorrow of the falling year; the patient returning of the stars; the looks of living and the tears of silent things; the uproar of city and of sea; the gentleness around the clamor, seeming anger of the universe, the sweetness above its storms.
We dedicate to-day a statue of the soul and the soul's strength.
Kneeling souls requite it with their homage.
It is our chapter in the last book of the Iliad of Chivalry.
It is our hero on whose tranquil face is graved ‘the light of duty beautifully done.’
As we draw aside the veil of the martial form and bared brow of duty, let us also unveil the voice which says: ‘The very light shall clothe thee, and the shadow of the passing cloud shall be as a royal mantle.
Thou shalt share in the azure of Heaven, and the youngest and whitest cloud of a summer's sky shall nestle in thy bosom.
Thou belongest half to us.’
At the conclusion of his remarks Mr. Robinson
was liberally applauded, and just before he resumed his seat a number of the veterans arose and heartily congratulated him upon his splendid effort.
then extended an invitation to all the old members of the battalion to be present at the banquet, after which Bishop Randolph
, who occupied a seat upon the stage, dismissed the audience with the benediction.