CANISTER. | If amid the din of battle Nobly you should fall, Far away from those who love you, None to hear you call, Who would whisper words of comfort, Who would soothe your pain? Ah! the many cruel fancies Ever in my brain.—Chorus. But our country called you, darling, Angels cheer your way, While our nation’s sons are fighting We can only pray. Nobly strike for God and liberty, Let all nations see How we love our starry banner, Emblem of the free.—Chorus. |
WE ARE COMING, FATHER ABRAHAM.
[[Listen]] [[Notation]]
(Used by permission of S. Brainard’s Sons, owners of the copyright.)
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LINCOLN. | 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 workshops, our wives and children dear, With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear; We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before— We are coming, Father Abraham—three hundred thousand more! |
| If you look across the hill-tops that meet the northern sky, Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry; And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloud veil aside, And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride; And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour— We are coming, Father Abraham—three hundred thousand more! If you look all up our valleys, where the growing harvests shine, You may see our sturdy farmer-boys fast forming into line, And children from their mothers’ knees are pulling at the weeds, And learning how to reap and sow, against their country’s needs; And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door— We are coming, Father Abraham—three hundred thousand more! |