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THE HOPES OF MAN.

OUR past is bright and grand

In the purpling tints of time, And the present of our land

Points to glories more sublime. For our destiny is won,

And 'tis ours to lead the van of the nations marching on, Of the moving hosts of Man.

Yes, the Starry Flag alone

Shall wave above the van
Of the nations sweeping on,

Of the moving hosts of Man. We are sprung from noble sires

As were ever sung in song ;
We are bold with Freedom's fires,

We are rich, and wise, and strong.
On us are freely showered

The gifts of every clime, And we're the richest dowered Of all the heirs of Time.

Brothers, then, in Union strong,

We shall ever lead the van,
As the nations sweep along

To fulfil the hopes of Man,
We are brothers, and we know

That our Union is a tower, When the fiercest whirlwinds blow

And the darkest tempests lower.
We shall sweep the land and sea

While we march in Union great-
Thirty millions of the free,
With the steady stride of fate.

Brothers, then, in Union strong,

Let us ever lead the van,
As the nations sweep along

To fulfil the hopes of Man.

See our prairies, sky-surrounded!

See our hills with golden veins !
See our waving woods unbounded,

And our cities on the plains !
See the oceans kiss our strand-

Oceans stretched from pole to pole !
See our mighty lakes expand,
And our giant rivers roll!

Such a land, and such alone,

Should be leader of the van
Of the nations sweeping on

To fulfil the hopes of Man,
Yes, the spirit of our land,

The young giant of the West,
With the waters in his hand,

With the forests for his crest,
To our hearts' quick, proud pulsations,

To our shouts that still increase,
Shall yet lead on the nations
To their brotherhood of peace.

Yes, Columbia, great and strong,

Shall forever lead the van,
As the nations sweep along
To fulfil the hopes of Man.

Joseph O'CONNOR.

:

GOD SAVE THE NATION!

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 appearing,
Coming in clouds, while mortal men stand fearing:
Show us, amid this 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 !
Then, in the blood-red Valley of Decision,
Make the land green with Peace, as in a vision
Of fields elysian !

THEODORE TILTON.

MINE eyes

BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC.

[November, 1861.) have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord ; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes

of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:

His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watchfires of a hundred cir

cling camps; They have builded Him an altar in the evening

dews and damps; I have read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps :

His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows

of steel : As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my

grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,

Since God is marching on."

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never

call retreat ; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judg

ment-seat; Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant,

Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you

my feet!

the sea,

and me;

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.

JULIA WARD HOWE.

ALL QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC. [This piece, sometimes printed with the less character. istic title of "The Picket Guard,has been claimed for several authors, Northern and Southern. It appeared in the Southern Literary Messenger," February, 1863, as “ written by Lamar Fontaine, private of Company I, Second Regiment Virginia Cavalry, while on picket, on the bank of the Potomac, in 1861." More recently, it has been claimed for another Southern soldier, named Thad Oliver. But it is now known to have been written by Mrs. Ethel Lynn (or Ethelinda) Beers, of New York, and first published in Harper's Weeklyin 1861. The phrase " All quiet along the Potomacwas a familiar one in the fall of that year; and in the indifferent announcement that was one day added, A picket shot,the author found the inspiration of her poem.] “All quiet along the Potomac,” they say,

Except now and then a stray picket
Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro,

By a rifleman hid in the thicket;

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'Tis nothing-a private or two now and then

Will not count in the news of the battle ; Not an officer lost-only one of the men,

Moaning out, all alone, his death-rattle." All quiet along the Potomac to-night,

Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming ; Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon,

Or the light of the watch-fires, are gleaming. A tremulous sigh, as the gentle night-wind

Through the forest-leaves softly is creeping; While stars up above, with their glittering eyes,

Keep guard-for the army is sleeping. There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread,

As he tramps from the rock to the fountain,
And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed

Far away in the cot on the mountain.
His musket falls slack_his face, dark and grim,

Grows gentle with memories tender,
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep,

For their mother-may Heaven defend her! The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then,

That night, when the love yet unspoken
Leaped up to his lips—when low-murmured vows

Were pledged to be ever unbroken.
Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,

He dashes off tears that are welling,
And gathers his gun closer up to its place,

As if to keep down the heart-swelling.
He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree-

The footstep is lagging and weary;
Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light,

Toward the shades of the forest so dreary. Hark! was

the night-wind that rustled the leaves ? Was it moonlight so suddenly flashing ? It looked like a rifle .... “Ha! Mary, good-by!"

And the life-blood is ebbing and plashing

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