Hymns and Odes X

John Pierpont

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Long, in a nameless grave,
Bones of the true and brave!
Have ye reposed.
This day, our hands have dressed,
This day, our prayers have blessed
A chamber for your rest;
And now 'tis closed.

Sleep on, ye slaughtered ones!
Your spirit, in your sons,
Shall guard your dust,
While winter comes in gloom,
While spring returns with bloom,
Nay,--till this honored tomb
Gives up its trust.

When war's first blast was heard,
These men stood forth to guard
Thy house, O God!
And now thy house shall keep
Its vigils where they sleep,
And long its shadow sweep
O'er their green sod.

In morning's prime they bled;
And morning finds their bed
With tears all wet;
Tears that thy hosts of light,
Rising in order bright,
To watch their tomb all night,
Shed for them yet.

Nought shall their slumber break;
For "they shall not awake,
Nor yet be raised
Out of their sleep," before
Thy heavens, now arching o'er
Their couch, shall be no more.--
Thy name be praised!

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