A hundred years ago, Edwin Markham wrote a poem to celebrate the life of Abraham Lincoln, which was chosen from 250 entries to be read at the opening of the Lincoln Memorial. In it he eulogized warmly and well; and among the choice lines are these: “His words were oaks in acorns; and his thoughts were roots that firmly gript the granite truth.” Most visionary leaders would love to have such things said about them.

But how shall the words of him be described who was the granite Truth? His words were not just oaks in acorns, but whole forests in acorns. In fact, whole worlds in acorns. Better still: his words brought worlds into being simply by speaking. “Let there be!”, and it was so. How exciting then to think that he spoke words not just about acorns but about hearts and minds and souls. “If I be lifted up, I will draw all men to myself.”

No doubt memorials are meant for those who leave an impact on this world, and none can doubt that Lincoln left his mark. But how shall that memorial be eulogized that remembers him of Easter fame? Was it an oak, that gave its wood, to make a Roman cross? Who knows the wood, that made the tree, that held his body close. Better: Who knows the wood, his hands and feet gript willingly, to bring the real and lasting emancipation from sin-slavery, and with it, the union of cross-shaped hearts.