Now lies he low! and none tonight
Shall envy him his sorry plight,
But all—aye, all! with bated breath
Shall watch the battle waged with death,
And eyes grown dim, in watching spent,
Shall pray “God save our president!”
All party lines, and gibes, and jeers,
Are sunk to naught; and but our fears
Do wake one hope within our breast,
God bring our ruler peaceful rest!
A rest with peace and healing blent,
And save, O God, our president!
High is his place. As mountain high
Doth lure the lightning from the sky,
Calm in belief neath gibe or praise,
He steadfast walked his ordained ways;
Now, chiding past, each head is bent,
Whilst prayers arise, “Our president!”
Hath he done wrong? Who hath not so?
Perfection’s crown no man may know;
His duty as it seemed to him
He did in silence, steadfast, grim;
No step to left nor right he bent,
And now—God save our president!
His wife! his sweetheart thro’ the years—
May Hope spring swift to quench her tears!
By her own side a simple man,
But on God’s broadest, truest plan!
Their hearts, thro’ griefs and pleasures blent,
Were one; God save her president.