Of the land’s indignant veins,
And, with their tempestuous spurning,
Broke the slave’s tear-rusted chains:
Heart that tied its iron fibers
Round the Union’s starry band;
Martyr’s heart, that upward beating,
Broke on hate’s assassin hand!
Oh! the land he loved will miss him,
Miss him in its hour of need!
Mourns the nation for the nation