In the hour of gloom now thy valorous sons show, That freemen can die, but ne'er yield to the foe! But our Shiloh has come--see the enemy flee! His sceptre has sunk 'neath the swift Tennessee-- And the Southern heart and the Southern hand, From classic Potomac to bold Rio Grande, Still push on to battle, when floating they see The flag of the Southland--the flag of the free! ON TO GLORY. Sons of freedom, on to glory, Go where brave men do or die; Let your names in future story Gladden every patriot's eye; 'Tis your country calls you hasten, Backward hurl the invading foe; Freemen, never think of danger, To the glorious battle go. Oh, remember gallant Jackson, Single-handed in the fight, Death blows dealt the fierce marauder, For his liberty and right; Tho' he fell beneath their thousands, Who that covets not his fame? Grand and glorious, brave and noble, Henceforth shall be Jackson's name. Sons of freedom, can you linger, When you hear the battle roar, Fondly dallying with your pleasures When the foe is at your door? Never, no, we fear no idlers, Death or Freedom's now the cry, 'Till the "Stars and Bars" triumphant Spread their folds to every eye. STONEWALL JACKSON'S WAY. Found on the body of a sergeant of the Old Stonewall Brigade, Winchester, Va. [The music of this song can be procured of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston, Mass., owners of the copyright.] Come, stack arms, men! pile on the rails, Stir up the camp-fire bright; No matter if the canteen fails, We'll make a roaring night; Here Shenandoah brawls along, To swell the Brigade's rousing song Of "Stonewall Jackson's way." We see him now!--the old slouched hat Cocked o'er his eye, askew-- The shrewd, dry smile--the speech as pat-- So calm, so blunt, so true. The "Blue Light Elder" knows o'er well-- Says he, "That's Banks--he's fond of shell-- Lord save his soul!--we'll give him"--well, That's "Stonewall Jackson's way." [Illustration: "He's in the saddle now."] Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off! Old Blue Light's going to pray; Strangle the fool that dares to scoff! Attention! 'tis his way! Appealing from his native sod, _In forma pauperis_ to God-- "Lay bare thine arm; stretch forth thy rod; Amen!" That's "Stonewall's way." He's in the saddle now! Fall in! Steady--the whole Brigade! Hill's at the ford cut off! He'll win His way out, ball and blade; What matter if our shoes are worn! What matter if our feet are torn! "Quick step--we're with him before dawn!" That's "Stonewall Jackson's way."