HYMNS.

Ex. CLXXXIX.-ARMY HYMN.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

O LORD of Hosts! Almighty King!
Behold the sacrifice we bring!
To every arm Thy strength impart,
Thy Spirit shed through every heart!

Wake in our breast the living fires,
The holy faith that warmed our sires;
Thy hand hath made our Nation free;
To die for her is serving Thee.

Be Thou a pillared flame, to show
The midnight snare, the silent foe;
And when the battle thunders loud,
Still guide us in its moving cloud.

God of all Nations! Sovereign Lord!
In Thy dread name we draw the sword;
We lift the starry flag on high,
That fills with light our stormy sky.

From treason's rent, from murder's stain,
Guard Thou its folds till Peace shall reign;
Till fort and field, till shore and sea,
Join our loud anthem, PRAISE TO THEE!

Ex. CXC.-A WAR HYMN.

THEODORE TILTON.

285

THOU who ordainest, for the land's salvation,
Famine and fire, and sword and lamentation,
Now unto Thee we lift our supplication-
God save the nation !

By the great sign, foretold, of thy appearingComing in clouds, while mortal men stand fearingShow us, amid the smoke of battle clearing

Thy chariot nearing!

By the brave blood that floweth like a river,
Hurl thou a thunderbolt from out thy quiver!
Break thou the strong gates! Every fetter shiver!
Smite and deliver!

Slay thou our foes, or turn them to derision,
Till, through the blood-red Valley of Decision,
Peace on our fields shine, like a prophet's vision,
Green and Elysian !

Ex. CXCI.-ON BOARD THE CUMBERLAND, MARCH 7th, 1862.

GEORGE H. BOKER.

"STAND to your guns, men!" Morris cried.

Small need to pass the word;

Our men at quarters ranged themselves
Before the drum was heard.

And then began the sailors' jests:
"What thing is that, I say?"
"A 'long-shore meeting-house adrift
Is standing down the bay!"

A frown came over Morris' face;
The strange, dark craft he knew;
"That is the iron Merrimac,

Manned by a rebel crew.

"So shot your guns, and point them straight;
Before this day goes by,

We'll try of what her metal's made."
A cheer was the reply.

Meanwhile the shapeless iron mass

Came moving o'er the wave,

As gloomy as a passing hearse,

As silent as the

grave.

She reached our range. Our broadside rang,
Our heavy pivots roared;

And shot and shell, a fire of hell,

Against her sides we poured.

ON BOARD THE CUMBERLAND.

God's mercy! From her sloping roof
The iron tempest glanced,

As hail bounds from a cottage thatch,
And round her leaped and danced.

Or when against her dusky hull
We struck a fair, full blow,
The mighty, solid, iron globes
Were crumbled up like snow.

On, on, with fast increasing speed
The silent monster came,
Though all our starboard battery
Was one long line of flame.

She heeded not-no gun she fired,
Straight on our bow she bore;
Through riving plank and crashing frame
Her furious way she tore.

Once more she backward drew a space,
Once more our side she rent;
Then, in the wantonness of hate,

Her broadside through us sent.

287

We felt our vessel settling fast,
We knew our time was brief;

[pumped,

"The pumps! The pumps!" But they who
And fought not, wept with grief.

From captain down to powder-boy,
No hand was idle then;

Two soldiers, but by chance aboard,
Fought on like sailor-men.

And when a gun's crew lost a hand,
Some bold marine stepped out,
And jerked his braided jacket off,
And hauled the gun about.

Our forward magazine was drowned;

And up from the sick bay

Crawled out the wounded, red with blood,

And round us gasping lay

Yes, cheering, calling us by name,
Struggling with failing breath,
To keep their shipmates at the post
Where glory strove with death.

With decks afloat, and powder gone,
The last broadside we gave
From the guns' heated iron lips
Burst out beneath the wave.

"Up to the spar-deck! save yourselves! "
Cried Selfridge. "Up, my men!
God grant that some of us may live
To fight that ship again!"

We turned; we did not like to go;
Yet staying seemed but vain,
Knee-deep in water; so we left.

Some swore, some groaned with pain.

We reached the deck. There Randall stood;
"Another turn, men-So!"
Calmly he aimed his pivot-gun:
"Now, Tenny, let her go!"

It did our sore hearts good to hear
The song our pivot sang,

As rushing on from wave to wave
The whirring bomb-shell sprang.

Brave Randall leaped upon the gun,

And waved his cap in sport;

"Well done! well aimed! I saw that shot

Go through an open port!"

It was our last, our deadliest shot;

The deck was overflown;

The poor ship staggered, lurched to port,

And gave a living groan.

Down, down, as headlong through the waves

Our gallant vessel rushed,

A thousand gurgling watery sounds

Around my senses gushed.

THE VARUNA.

I tried to cheer. I can not say
Whether I swam or sank;

A blue mist closed around my eyes,
And every thing was blank.

When I awoke, a soldier lad,
All dripping from the sea,
With two great tears upon his cheeks,
Was bending over me.

I tried to speak. He understood
The wish I could not speak-

He turned me. There, thank God! the flag
Still fluttered at the peak!

And there, while thread shall hang to thread,
Oh, let that ensign fly!

The noblest constellation set.

Against our northern sky.

A sign that we who live, may claim
The peerage of the brave;

A monument, that needs no scroll,
For those beneath the wave!

Ex. CXCII.-THE VARUNA.

Sunk April 25th, 1862.

GEORGE H. BOKER.

289

WHO has not heard of the dauntless Varuna?
Who has not heard of the deeds she has done?
Who shall not hear, while the brown Mississippi
Rushes along from the snow to the sun?

Crippled and leaking she entered the battle,

Sinking and burning she fought through the fray, Crushed were her sides, and the waves ran across her, Ere, like a death-wounded lion at bay,

Sternly she closed in the last fatal grapple,
Then in her triumph moved grandly away,