"Nicodemus, the slave, was of African birth, And was bought for a bagful of gold; He was reckon'd as part of the salt of the earth, But he died years ago, very old. 'Twas his last sad request--so we laid him away In the trunk of an old hollow tree. 'Wake me up!' was his charge, 'at the first break of day-- Wake me up for the great jubilee!' The Good Time Coming is almost here! It was long, long, long on the way! Now run and tell Elijah to hurry up Pomp, And meet us at the gumtree down in the swamp, To wake Nicodemus to-day." While _Marching through Georgia_ is, without doubt, Mr. Work's most renowned war song, his _Song of a Thousand Years_ has about it a rise and swell, and a sublimity both in expression and melody, that surpasses anything else that he has written. The chorus is peculiarly fine both in words and music. Work's songs brought him a considerable fortune. After the close of the war he made an extended tour through Europe, and while on the sea wrote a song which became very famous, entitled _The Ship that Never Returned_. During the later years of his life he wrote _Come Home, Father_, and _King Bibbler's Army_--both famous temperance songs. After his return from Europe, Work invested his fortune in a fruit-growing enterprise in Vineland, New Jersey. He was also a somewhat remarkable inventor, and a patented knitting machine, a walking doll, and a rotary engine are among his numerous achievements. These years were saddened by financial and domestic misfortunes. His wife became insane, and died in an asylum in 1883. He survived her only a year, dying suddenly of heart disease on June 8, 1884, at Hartford, Connecticut. His ashes rest in Spring Grove Cemetery in that city, and on Decoration Day the Grand Army of the Republic never fail to strew flowers on the grave of the singer whose words and melodies led many an army to deeds of heroism. May a grateful people keep his memory green, and cause his grave to blossom for "A Thousand Years!" [Illustration] [Illustration: _JOHN WALLACE HUTCHINSON_] _TENTING ON THE OLD CAMP GROUND._ We're tenting to-night on the old camp ground; Give us a song to cheer Our weary hearts, a song of home, And friends we love so dear. Many are the hearts that are weary to-night, Wishing for the war to cease, Many are the hearts, looking for the right, To see the dawn of peace. Tenting to-night, tenting to-night, Tenting on the old camp ground. We've been tenting to-night on the old camp ground, Thinking of days gone by, Of the loved ones at home, that gave us the hand, And the tear that said "Good-bye!" We are tired of war on the old camp ground, Many are dead and gone, Of the brave and true who've left their homes Others been wounded long.