Though the way was rough and rugged and the serried ranks grew thin;
Though the way was rough and rugged and our eyes were dim with pain,
We beheld the spires of Richmond over hillocks of the slain.
We beheld the spires of Richmond, with prophetic light they shone
In the tranquil southern sunshine as proclaiming her our own;
Yet how solemn was the moment when downtrodden at our feet
Lay the patriot, the comrade, with his martyr's work complete.
We beheld the spires of Richmond and Columbia at peace;—
An eternal badge of glory in the stricken slave's release.
Names, alone, may be forgotten in the ceaseless rush of years,