The Dying Soldier to his Mother
Johnson, Song Publisher, No. 7 N. 10th St, Phila.
The Dying Soldier To His Mother.
On the field of battle, mother,
All the night alone I lay,
Angels watching o’er me, mother,
’Till the breaking of the day.
I lay thinking of you, mother,
And the loving ones at home,
’Till to our dear cottage, mother,
Boy again I seemed to come.
He to whom yon taught me, mother,
On my infant knee to pray,
Kept my heart from fainting, mother,
When the vision passed away.
In the gray of morning, mother,
Comrades bore me to the town;
From my bosom, tender fingers,
Washed the drops that trickled down.
I must soon be going, mother,
Going to the home of rest;
Kiss me as of old, my mother,
Press me nearer to your breast.
Would I could repay you, mother,
For your faithful love and care;
God uphold and bless you, mother,
In this bitter woe you bear.
Kiss for me my little brother,
Kiss my sisters, loved so well,
When you sit together, mother,
Tell them how their brother fell.
Tell to them the story, mother,
When I sleep beneath the sod,
That I died to save my country.
All from love to her and God.
Leaning on the merit, mother,
Of the One who died for all,
Peace is in my bosom, mother,
Hark! I hear the angels call.
Don’t you hear them singing, mother?
Listen to the music’s swell,
Now I leave you, loving mother—
God be with you—fare you well!
See Johnson’s New Catalogue of Songs.