The grand organ is pouring forth its strains of glorious melody,
Causing the magnificent Temple of Music to resound again and
The first man of the nation and of the world, has taken his
place among the
Whom he loved so well.
His heart beats high with joy, his eye beams with a holy fire,
Lighting up that benign, and lovely countenance,
As he extends his hand in kindly greeting to all who pass that
To manifest that in his heart, no malice is, towards any of
the sons of men.
Out from that gala throng, a cringing coward steals,
His bandaged hand conceals a deadly weapon; 
And he reaches, as Judas did, to greet the guileless one.
Two quick reports awake the echoes of the mighty dome.
Two trickling, crimson streamlets, tell the awful story;
’Tis the life’s blood, of our beloved President.
He calmly walks towards a seat, one moment,
He bows his head upon his hands, perhaps in prayer,
It is not much he said, “deal gently with the man, may God forgive
No murmur e’er escaped his lips,
He counts his life’s blood less than the slightest pain to others.
A prince and hero has fallen in our land, this day;
A hero in his private life,
A hero in the dread turmoil of war;
A hero, and a glorious victor, in all his great ambitions,
Until, at last, his triumphant feet had reached the very topmost
Of fame’s immortal ladder; when the accursed bullet laid him
His was the clearest mind the centuries have known,
His was as brave a heart as ever throbbed within a human breast.
His life and character as pure and stainless as the fragrant
Which diffuses its sweet perfume upon the morning air.
“God’s will be done,” he said, “I shall find rest”;
As surrounded by a nation’s mighty men,
Whose hearts bled sore, because they could not die for him,
While the heart-broken nation held its breath without,
He took his sad farewell.