Our Southern Dead
Our Southern Dend.
Gallant men and leaders brave,
Though they fill a blood-stain’d grave—
They have gained a mighty name;
They shall live in deathless fame.
Wise in council—good and great,—
By the homes made desolate.
By the childless widews’ groan;
By the helpless orphan’s moan.
By the cause so deeply tried,—
Holy cause for which they died.
While one pulse of life remains,
While the free blood fills our veins,—
Never shall shall their memory perish;
In our hearts of hearts we’ll cherish—
Our best and lovliest ones,
Brothers and lovers and sons.
Their brave young hearts grew strong
With scorn of a deadly wrong;
And they went in their fair uprightness,—
In the flush of their morning brightness;
To join in the battle strife,
The conflict of life for life.
They fought as freemen fight—
Sternly battling for the right.
They fell in their beautiful youth:
They died to uphold the truth.
And the turf of the valley covers,
Fathers, brothers, sons and lovers.
Thrice hallowed their rest shall be;
For they died to make our people free.
And sad are the tears we shed
O’er the graves of our youthful dead;
For endless peace is given
To the holy hosts of Heaven.
And the soldier has laid down
His sword for a harp and crown.
At the Captain’s right red hand,
Behold a warrior band.
The victor’s palm they bear,
And their robes are pure and fair.
They have conquered in His might,
And they walk with Him in light.
On the banks of the blessed river,
By the Tree of Life forever.
Joy for our blessed dead;