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O God! that one of thy creatures
Should e'er work such woe on another !
Wipe the sweat from his brow with your kerchief;
Let the stain tattered collar go wide,
The surgeon still stands at his side.
Oh ! this ball that has broken my thigh!"
“In thy mercy, O God! let me die!”
Pass on! It is useless to linger
While others are claiming your care; There is need of your delicate finger,
For your womanly sympathy, there! There are sick ones athirst for caressing
There are dying ones raving for homeThere are wounds to be bound with a blessing
And shrouds to make ready for some.
They have gathered about you the harvest
Of death, in its ghastliest view;
Is here with the traitor and true!
Made sunny with love at the heart,
Nor falter, nor shrink from your part !
Woman's War Mission
Up and down through the wards, where the fever
Stalks noisome, and gaunt and impure,
To comfort, to counsel, to cure !
But strength will be given to you
Alone in her pity can do.
And the lips of the mothers will bless you
As angels sweet visaged and pale !
What matter? God's ways are the best ;
And He will take care of the rest.
We thousand more
E are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred
thousand more, From Mississippi's winding stream and from New Eng
land's shore; We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and
children dear, With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear; We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before : We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand
If you look across the hill-tops that meet the northern sky, Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry; And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloudy veil aside,
Three bundred Tbousand more
And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride, And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave
music pour :
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand
If you look all up our valleys where the growing harvests
shine, You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast forming into line; And children from their mother's knees are pulling at
the weeds, And learning how to reap and sow against their country's
needs ; And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage
door : We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand
You have called us, and we 're coming, by Richmond's
bloody tide To lay us down, for Freedom's sake, our brothers' bones
beside, Or from foul treason's savage grasp to wrench the mur
derous blade, And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade. Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone
before: We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand
more! Vol. II.
[During the battles in the Wilderness at the beginning of the campaign of 1864, General Robert E. Lee, impressed with the desperate necessity of carrying a certain peculiarly difficult position, seized the colors of a Texas regiment and undertook to lead the perilous assault in person. The troops and their colonel remonstrated with vehemence, the colonel, in his men's behalf, pledging the regiment to carry the position if General Lee would retire. The troops advanced to the charge shouting “Lee to the Rear!” as a sort of battle cry.-EDITOR.]
AWN of a pleasant morning in May
Broke through the Wilderness cool and gray ; While perched in the tallest tree-tops, the birds Were carolling Mendelssohn's “Songs without Words."
Far from the haunts of men remote,