And, as the glorious tidings upon the nation fell,
Satan, with all his legions, went howling down to Hell.
Of crime and blood no longer could he freely drink his fill,
For the curséd demon, Slavery, had best performed his will.
Let words of deep thanksgiving blend with the tears you shed
For the hosts of noble martyrs who in Freedom’s cause have bled.
Though they fell before the sickle which reaps the battle-plain,
Yet, to-day, they know in heaven, that they perished not in vain.
Your nation’s glorious Eagle, with an unfaltering flight,
Hath perched at length, in triumph, on Freedom’s loftiest height;
The stars upon your banner burn with a fairer flame,
And the radiant stripes no longer are emblems of your shame.
The slave, made like his master, “in the image of his God,”
Shall bare his back no longer to the oppressor’s rod;
His night of pain and anguish, of want and woe, has past,
And Freedom’s radiant morning has dawned on him at last.
O thou Recording Angel! turn to that page whereon
Is traced, in undimmed brightness, the name of Washington,
And, with thy pen immortal, in characters of flame,
To stand henceforth and ever, write also Lincoln’s name!
The first hurled back the tyrant, in the country’s hour of need,
The last, divinely guided, hath made her free indeed.
Let a nation’s grateful tribute to each, alike, be given,
While the kingdom, power and glory are ascribed alone to Heaven.
“Ethiopia no longer stretcheth forth her hands” in vain;
On the demon of oppression she hath left her servile chain;
Then swell the shout of triumph, till the nations hear afar;
Three cheers—three cheers for Freedom! Huzzä! Huzzä! Huzzä!
OUR SOLDIERS’ GRAVES.
Sons of the nation to glory restored,
Strew with fresh laurels the patriot’s grave—
Heed the libation to Liberty poured—
Honor the blood of the fearless and brave.