In Memoriam

[Delivered at the Laurel Hall Club upon the death of William McKinley.]

     Upon the tablet of human destiny God has inscribed the law that man shall die. From day to day, along the path from youth to age, we note the passing sands in the hour glass [sic] of time and know some life at its beginning, its meridian, or its ending, has passed from our earthly vision, leaving the long silence for which we mourn.
     The nation stands today in the shadow of a great grief, and we dumbly try to understand the Divine Will which laid its chieftain low. The banners droop above the martyred dead in the sable halls of state, while a stricken people lays its immortelles upon the quiet heart, which was gentle as a woman’s, great as a king’s.
     Though the flaming hand of anarchy wrote across the lurid sky the “mene, mene, tekel, upharsin” of the ancients, yet purposeless the dark deed stands for the strength and wisdom of a great leader illumines the way where others may follow. As we gather about the majestic dead we can but feel that “it is not all of life to live,” and that somehow, somewhere, this grand soul is living out its destiny. Patriot, statesman, martyr, well-beloved, “requiescat in pace!” [22][23]
     The night falls softly on the sacred dust, and far above, beyond the malice of man, serenely the old flag floats, emblem of liberty, imperishable as the memory of him who lived for its honor and died in its cause.