128. God keep our army pure.
by H. A. Moore.God keep our soldiers pure as brave,--
The gentle “Seventh,” the “fierce Zouave,”
And all our gallant host;
Like the old warriors of Judea,
May ours be led by “Israel's Fear,”
Be God their trust and boast.
May every camp amid the trees,
Where brown cheeks feel the cooling breeze,
While firm feet press the sod,--
May every white tent on the hills,
Each round pavilion by the rills,
Be holy unto God.
With willing hearts, but tearful eyes,
(Knowing what woe before us lies,)
Brother and sire we send;
With ready hands, but bosoms sore,
(Knowing that some will come no more,)
We speed each patriot friend.
We give them to the camp, the field;
The dearest things of life we yield,
Nor grudge the sacrifice.
Take one, take all, O Tented Plain!
O Battle Field! But if again
Our offerings meet our eyes;--
If from the bloody strife they come,
Once more to rest, in peace, at home,
Return them pure as brave.
The loyal heart, the sturdy frame,
We venture; but the clean, good name,
O War, thou terror, save!
God, save our fathers, brothers, friends,
From all the evil which attends,
Watching for brave men's souls;
Within, without, where soldiers dwell,
In camp, and fort, and citadel,
Too often it controls.
This war is Thine! we do not shrink;
The wine is red, but we will drink;--
All, all we will endure.
Not blood unto the horses' mane,
Not heaped — up friends, dead on the plain,
Shall our wrung hearts of courage drain,
So our dear host be pure!
God, keep our soldiers pure!