They rolled the stone from the sepulchre of progress, and found therein two angels clad in shining garments—nationality and liberty. The soldiers were the Saviours of the Nation. They were the liberators of men. In writing the proclamation of emancipation, Lincoln, greatest of our mighty dead, whose memory is as gentle as the summer air,—when reapers sing 'mid gathered sheaves,—copied with the pen what Grant and his brave comrades wrote with swords.