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Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1 173 7 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Carlyle's laugh and other surprises 51 3 Browse Search
Jula Ward Howe, Reminiscences: 1819-1899 42 2 Browse Search
Harper's Encyclopedia of United States History (ed. Benson Lossing) 28 0 Browse Search
Mary Thacher Higginson, Thomas Wentworth Higginson: the story of his life 21 1 Browse Search
Frank Preston Stearns, Cambridge Sketches 21 1 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 20 0 Browse Search
The Photographic History of The Civil War: in ten volumes, Thousands of Scenes Photographed 1861-65, with Text by many Special Authorities, Volume 9: Poetry and Eloquence. (ed. Francis Trevelyan Miller) 18 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Letters and Journals of Thomas Wentworth Higginson 10 0 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 1, Colonial and Revolutionary Literature: Early National Literature: Part I (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 10 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore). You can also browse the collection for Julia Ward Howe or search for Julia Ward Howe in all documents.

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69. 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 watch-fires 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: “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 I be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was borne across the sea, With a glory in