God bless the Flag and its loyal defenders, While its broad folds o'er the battle-field wave, Till the dim star-wreath rekindle its splendors, Washed from its stains in the blood of the brave! 1865. HYMN AFTER THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION GIVER of all that crowns our days, With grateful hearts we sing thy praise; Through deep and desert led by Thee, Our promised land at last we see. Ruler of Nations, judge our cause! If we have kept thy holy laws, The sons of Belial curse in vain The day that rends the captive's chain. Thou God of vengeance! Israel's Lord! Break in their grasp the shield and sword, And make thy righteous judgments known Till all thy foes are overthrown! Then, Father, lay thy healing hand In mercy on our stricken land; Lead all its wanderers to the fold, And be their Shepherd as of old. So shall one Nation's song ascend To Thee, our Ruler, Father, Friend, While Heaven's wide arch resounds again With Peace on earth, good-will to men! 1865. HYMN FOR THE FAIR AT CHICAGO O GOD! in danger's darkest hour, In battle's deadliest field, Thy name has been our Nation's tower, Thy truth her help and shield. Our lips should fill the air with praise, Nor pay the debt we owe, So high above the songs we raise The floods of mercy flow. Yet Thou wilt hear the prayer we speak, The song of praise we sing,-- Thy children, who thine altar seek Their grateful gifts to bring. Thine altar is the sufferer's bed, The home of woe and pain, The soldier's turfy pillow, red With battle's crimson rain. No smoke of burning stains the air, No incense-clouds arise; Thy peaceful servants, Lord, prepare A bloodless sacrifice. Lo! for our wounded brothers' need, We bear the wine and oil; For us they faint, for us they bleed, For them our gracious toil! O Father, bless the gifts we bring! Cause Thou thy face to shine, Till every nation owns her King, And all the earth is thine. 1865. UNDER THE WASHINGTON ELM, CAMBRIDGE APRIL 27,1861 EIGHTY years have passed, and more, Since under the brave old tree Our fathers gathered in arms, and swore They would follow the sign their banners bore, And fight till the land was free. Half of their work was done, Half is left to do,-- Cambridge, and Concord, and Lexington! When the battle is fought and won, What shall be told of you? Hark!--'t is the south-wind moans,-- Who are the martyrs down? Ah, the marrow was true in your children's bones That sprinkled with blood the cursed stones Of the murder-haunted town! What if the storm-clouds blow? What if the green leaves fall? Better the crashing tempest's throe Than the army of worms that gnawed below; Trample them one and all! Then, when the battle is won, And the land from traitors free, Our children shall tell of the strife begun When Liberty's second April sun Was bright on our brave old tree! FREEDOM, OUR QUEEN