That draft will be all right, Stevens! Now all together!
[Stanton leads and all sing.]
[Lincoln listens with bowed head.]
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more,
From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore;
We leave our plows and workshop, our wives and children dear,
With hearts too full for utterance, with but a single tear,
We dare not look behind us but steadfastly before,
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!
Chorus