With their last blessing, pass’d it on to you.
Stand by the flag, though death-shots round it rattle;
And underneath its waving folds have met,
In all the dread array of sanguine battle,
The quivering lance and glittering bayonet,
Stand by the flag, all doubt and treason scorning,
Believe with courage firm and faith sublime
That it will float until the eternal morning
Pales in its glories all the lights of time.