Detroit, May 12, 1864.
Long time our country for her shadowed glory,
Amid the murky, muffling clouds has wept;
Long time to God each breeze has borne the story
Of her deep woe--but it is dark as yet.
Long time upon her mountains and her valleys
Has lain rich dew that came not from above;
Long time beside her desecrated altars,
Brave hearts have laid their life to prove their love.
Long time in shadowed homes the wife and mother
Have prayed for loved ones with each sobbing breath,
Loved ones that stand or fall, where war's wild voices,
With their long shriek, talk never but of death.
Long time the calmer breath of prayers unnumbered
Have pierced above the clouds that gloom our sky,
Prayers strong and pure, that bind our cause and country
Unto the Power that rules and guides on high.
Long time the empty hands that gave their treasures
Have held these earnest pleadings up to God,
And comes there yet no echo of his footsteps?
Methinks of late somewhere his feet have trod.
For the bugle notes have sounded
The "Forward March" once more,
And along Potomac's waters,
Echo speaks it o'er and o'er;
Strong as the tides of ocean
Moved our columns as they shone,
And by our hopes of heaven,
They went not forth alone.
They have met the foe, and round them
Now falls the fiery rain,
But God encamps about them,
They shall not fail again;
We'll welcome them as victors
When the day of strife is o'er,
And God will watch the sleepers,
Who will come to us no more.
