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William McKinley
WHAT HAVE WE LOST?
What have we lost, who mourn a Nation’s chief,
Struck down by one to whom he
gave his trust,
Amid the people whom he loved?
His dust
Sleeps now within the silent tomb. Our grief
Wakes with each dawn to question our belief
That God is just. Why are we thus
bereft?
Why was he taken and the outcast
left?
Will time and faith bring sorrow sure relief?
Lost is the kindly presence that we knew;
Calm, patient, wise, gentle yet
strong of will.
The welcome grasp, the winning smile that drew
All men to him are lost. The voice
is still
Whose last farewell of love and faith, borne through
The mists of death, we heard with
solemn thrill.
WHAT HAVE WE GAINED?
What have we gained whose best-beloved friend
The Lord hath called nearer to
Him? Release
From toil and strife is his reward,
and peace
Which passeth understanding without end.
Can death bring gain to those whose prayers ascend
For nightly visions of his vanished
form;
Or to the Nation which through
calm and storm
His wisdom guided? Yes! For death can lend
Immortal power to words and deeds, as night
Lends glory to the stars. This
is our gain.
His words a deeper wisdom speak, and bright
With their eternal worth his deeds
remain.
Death cannot quench nor dim the living light
Of his pure life which God took
not in vain.
ASHINGTON,
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