THE OLD SHIP OF STATE.

223

I can see with a faith which Immortals have given, Burning words, blazing out o'er the portals of Heaven,

"She will live!"

But a part of the freight which our forefathers gave her

We must cast to the deep yawning waters to save

her:

'Tis the chain of the slave we must fling out to light

her;

'Tis the brand and the whip we must yield up to right her.

She will live!

Clear the decks of the curse! If opposed by the

owner,

Hurl the wretch to the wave, as they hurled over

Jonah ;

With a "Freedom to all!" gleaming forth from our banner,

Let the tyrant yet learn we have freemen to man

her.

She will live!

She will live while a billow lies swelling before her, She will live while the blue arch of heaven bends

o'er her,

224 BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC.

While the name of a Christ to the fallen we cherish,
Till the hopes in the breast of humanity perish,
She will live!

BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC.

BY MRS. JULIA WARD HOWE.

MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming

of the Lord;

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:

His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watchfires of a hundred

circling camps;

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;

I have read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:

His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows

of steel:

"OUT IN THE COLD."

225

"As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;

Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,

Since God is marching on."

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat;

Oh! be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!

Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across

the sea,

With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,

While God is marching on.

"OUT IN THE COLD."

WHAT is the threat?

cold!"

"Leave her out in the

226

"OUT IN THE COLD.”

Loyal New England, too loyally bold:

- ah! that is her crime!

Hater of treason,
Lover of Freedom,

Out in the cold?

Oh, she chooses the place,

Rather than share in a sheltered disgrace;

Rather than sit at a cannibal feast;

Rather than mate with the blood-reeking beast !

Leave out New England? And what will she do,
Stormy-browed sisters, forsaken by you?
Sit on her Rock, her desertion to weep?
Or, like a Sappho, plunge thence in the deep?

No; our New England can put on no airs,
Nothing will change the calm look that she wears:
Life's a rough lesson she learned from the first,
Up into wisdom through poverty nursed.

Not more distinct on his tables of stone
Was the grand writing to Moses made known,
Than is engraven, in letters of light,

On her foundations the One Law of Right.

She is a Christian: she smothers her ire,
Trims up the candle, and stirs the home fire;
Thinking and working and waiting the day
When her wild sisters shall leave their mad play.

"OUT IN THE COLD."

227

Out in the cold, where the free winds are blowing; Out in the cold, where the strong oaks are growing; Guards she all growths that are living and great, Growths to rebuild every tottering State.

"Notions "worth heeding to shape she has wrought,
Lifted and fixed on the granite of thought:
What she has done may the wide world behold!
What she is doing, too, out in the cold!

Out in the cold! she is glad to be there, Breathing the north wind, the clear healthful air; Saved from the hurricane passions that rend Hearts that once named her a sister and friend.

There she will stay, while they bluster and foam,
Planning their comfort when they shall come home;
Building the Union an adamant wall,
Freedom-cemented, that never can fall.

Freedom,-dear-bought with the blood of her sons,—
See the red current! right nobly it runs!
Life of her life is not too much to give
For the dear Nation she taught how to live.

Vainly they shout to you, sturdy Northwest! 'Tis her own heart that beats warm in your breast;