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Near my vacant chair they gather, blending tears amid their prayers--
God will hear them;
And anear them,
Will my spirit kneel with theirs!
Nor is darkness all around us;--we can thank our God for might;
For the strength which He has given still to struggle for the right;
For the soul so grandly beating in the nation's onward way;
For the spirit
On this new Thanksgiving day!
* * * * * * * *
Still the blue Potomac ripples like a silver thread below,
And amid the sullen darkness rises high the campfire's glow;
So I pace the picket lonely, while, apart from mortal sight,
Watch I'm keeping
With the sleeping
Loved ones far at home to-night.
South Quincy, Nov. 1861.
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