One hundred sixty-three years ago, in a small Pennsylvania town where thousands fell in battle, a leather-lunged politician stood before a crowd and told them he hesitated to raise his poor voice to break the eloquent silence of God and Nature. He said he was called to perform and prayed for the sympathy and indulgence of the crowd gathered to dedicate a cemetery at Gettysburg. And he spoke for two hours.

President Abraham Lincoln sat quietly as the speaker rambled on topics ranging from ancient Greek burial customs to current military tactics. And when it was the President’s turn, he spoke, using just 271 words, and the nation listened to his message. And so should we.

Here is what he said: ”Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

Lincoln wrote it himself, in ink, with a few pencil edits. His message was not tested on a focus group, not shown to prominent political aides, not vetted by major donors and special interest groups. It was the president speaking from his heart. While Lincoln was Commander-in-Chief of the Union army, he pulled no punches in favor of his side, calling all who perished brave men. And he reminded us all that they perished so that we all could live in freedom.

Since Mr. Lincoln stepped down from the cemetery platform, we have fought dozens of wars, some big, some not so. We have sent our sons, and now, our daughters, to face the grim reaper. We can spend days arguing on whether we should have committed our warriors in this cause or the last, but we can, no, we must, honor their commitment, resolve, and willingness to answer the call. But on our part, we must take care never to spend our human resources and collective treasure on causes that are not worthy of us all.

War is not a game. It is not a sporting event to be played out by grown-up schoolboys blustering and posturing on a playground. War is a serious matter with serious consequences. It demands leadership from serious people who weigh the potential costs and possible effects of each action.

In today’s interconnected world, where we are no longer protected by vast oceans, the costs of the present war are being felt by us all, at the grocery store, the gas station, and at home, especially when the big silver truck pulls into the driveway bringing us hundreds of gallons of fuel oil.

Our great-grandfathers, our grandfathers, our fathers, we, and today, our sons and daughters, have always answered when the nation called them to serve.

As Mr. Lincoln said, may we resolve to never ask them to offer their services in vain.

Amen.