Gettysburg - A poem in Harper's Weekly

GETTYSBURG.

GRANDLY the army wrought, on the murderous field of battle;

It has wiped the stain of defeat from every soldier's brow:

Mid the clash of steel on steel, and shouts, and the harsh death-rattle,

The Army of the Potomac has won a victory now!

 

Honor to ye brave men, from the battle wounded and gory!

Honor to ye brave men, whom the angel of death passed by!

Ages on ages hence shall others rehearse your story,

And pray that when duty calls like you they may live or die.

 

Though your worldly lives be obscured in the light of freedom's dawning,

Though the very graves ye rest in be marked with dimness and doubt,

Angel voices shall call to your resurrection morning—

God Himself is your Captain, and He will leave no man out!

 

Ye, who for weary months have suffered loss and disaster,

Going from love and home to scenes of hatred and pain,

Gaze on your flag with pride, and press toward the enemy faster!

Deck every brow with laurel, and lift up your heads again!

 

Then kneel reverently and call on the name of Jesus.

Be every head uncovered—each heart in silence adore.

He has crowned us with His love—He has blessed His erring creatures!

His be the power and glory forever and evermore!

--Anonymous poet, Harper's Weekly. July 18, 1863