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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 2 (search)
lemn Night, Which now in shadow vails the sky, Would never yield to Morning light, Bend down and hear thy people's cry. Bend from thy heaven of heavens, and see A nation, which had grown so great That, drawing off their hearts from thee, They worshipped fortune, fame, and fate, And called upon thy name too late. Thy righteous anger we deplore; Oh, look upon their hapless state, And be our sure defence, once more. Be thou, who wast our fathers' God, Our own reliance, strength, and stay; And let the sacred path they trod Still be their children's chosen way, Illumined by that glorious ray Which guided through the desert drear, A fire at night, a cloud by day, For many a sad, despairing year. O thou, whose smiling face appears At last behind war's awful frown, The tribute of our grateful tears, Like rain in Summer falling down, Accept, and let thy mercy crown This contest, holy in thy sight; And thine be all the vast renown, And ours the victory of Right. New York, Nov. 28, 1861.