by George H. Boker.We will not raise, O God! the formal prayer
Of broken heart and shattered nerve;
Thou know'st our griefs, our wants, and whatsoever
Is best for those who serve.
 Before thy feet, in silence and in awe,
We open lay our cause and need;
As brave men may, the patriot sword we draw,
But thine must be the deed.
We have no pageantry, to please thy eye,
Save marshaled men, who marching come
Beneath thy gaze in armed panoply;
No music save the drum.
We have no altar builded in thy sight,
From which the fragrant offerings rise,
Save this wild field of hot and bloody fight;
These dead our sacrifice.
To this great cause the force of prayer is given,
The wordless prayer of righteous will,
Before whose strength the ivory gates of heaven
Fall open, and are still.
For we believe, within our inmost souls,
That what men do with spirit sad,
To thee in one vast cloud of worship rolls--
Rolls up, and makes thee glad.
O God! if reason may presume so far,
We say our cause is also thine;
We read its truth in every flashing star,
In every sacred line.
By thy commission freedom first was sent,
To hold the tyrant's force at bay;
The chain that broke in Egypt was not meant
To bind our shining day.
Freedom to all! in Thy great name we cry,
And lift to heaven thy bloody sword;
Too long have we been blind in heart and eye
To thy outspoken word.
Before the terrors of that battle-call,
As flax before the gusty flame,
Down, down, the vanquished enemy shall fall,
Stricken with endless shame!
Here let division cease. Join hand with hand,
Join voice with voice; a general shout
Shall, like a whirlwind, sweep our native land,
And purge the traitors out!
Fear not or faint not. God, who ruleth men,
Marks where his noble martyrs lie;
They shall all rise beneath his smile again;
His foes alone shall die.