XII.
To the Lord of Hosts the glory,
For His the arm and might,
That have writ for us the story,
And have borne us through the fight!
His our shield in that field--
Voice that bade us never yield;
Oh! had he not been with us through the terrors of that day?
His strength hath made us strong,
Cheered the right and crushed the wrong,
To His temple let us throng--
PRAISE AND PRAY!
[1] The battle of Charleston Harbor, April 7, 1863, was fought by South Carolina troops exclusively.
[2] As the iron-clads approached Fort Sumter in line of battle, Col. Alfred Rhett, commandant of the post, mounting the parapet, where he remained, ordered the band to strike up the national air of "Dixie;" and at the same time, in addition to the Confederate flag, the State and regimental flags were flung out at different salients of the fort, and saluted with thirteen guns.
The Lone Sentry.
By James R. Randall.
Previous to the first battle of Manassas, when the troops under Stonewall Jackson had made a forced march, on halting at night they fell on the ground exhausted and faint. The hour arrived for setting the watch for the night. The officer of the day went to the general's tent, and said:
"General, the men are all wearied, and there is not one but is asleep. Shall I wake them?"
"No," said the noble Jackson; "let them sleep, and I will watch the camp to-night."
And all night long he rode round that lonely camp, the one lone sentinel for that brave, but weary and silent body of Virginia heroes. And when glorious morning broke, the soldiers awoke fresh and ready for action, all unconscious of the noble vigils kept over their slumbers.
'Twas in the dying of the day,
The darkness grew so still;
The drowsy pipe of evening birds
Was hushed upon the hill;
Athwart the shadows of the vale
Slumbered the men of might,
And one lone sentry paced his rounds,
To watch the camp that night.
A grave and solemn man was he,
With deep and sombre brow;
The dreamful eyes seemed hoarding up
Some unaccomplished vow.
The wistful glance peered o'er the plains
Beneath the starry light--
And with the murmured name of God,
He watched the camp that night.
The Future opened unto him
Its grand and awful scroll:
Manassas and the Valley march
Came heaving o'er his soul--
Richmond and Sharpsburg thundered by
With that tremendous fight
Which gave him to the angel hosts
Who watched the camp that night.
We mourn for him who died for us,
With one resistless moan;
While up the Valley of the Lord
He marches to the Throne!
He kept the faith of men and saints
Sublime, and pure, and bright--
He sleeps--and all is well with him
Who watched the camp that night.
Brothers! the Midnight of the Cause
Is shrouded in our fate;
The demon Goths pollute our halls
With fire, and lust, and hate.
Be strong--be valiant--be assured--
Strike home for Heaven and Right!
The soul of Jackson stalks abroad,
And guards the camp to-night!
To My Soldier Brother.
By Sallie E. Ballard, of Texas.
When softly gathering shades of ev'n
Creep o'er the prairies broad and green,
And countless stars bespangle heav'n,
And fringe the clouds with silv'ry sheen,
My fondest sigh to thee is giv'n,
My lonely wandering soldier boy;
And thoughts of thee
Steal over me
Like ev'ning shades, my soldier boy.
My brother, though thou'rt far away,
And dangers hurtle round thy path,
And battle lightnings o'er thee play,
And thunders peal in awful wrath,
Think, whilst thou'rt in the hot affray,
Thy sister prays for thee, my boy.
If fondest prayer
Can shield thee there
Sweet angels guard my soldier boy.
Thy proud young heart is beating high
To clash of arms and cannons' roar;
That firm-set lip and flashing eye
Tell how thy heart is brimming o'er.
Be free and live, be free or die;
Be that thy motto now, my boy;
And though thy name's
Unknown to fame's,
'Tis graven on my heart, my boy.