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[231] On, on, brave hearts, your cause is just
     And right and justice must prevail;
As soon might straws attempt to stay
     The torrent wild—the sweeping gale—
As hirelings of the North drive back
     Men with such hands and hearts as yours;
Go meet the invaders at their camp,
     Let not their feet defile our shores!

Woe to the craven who shall fail
     His country in her hour of need;
Who turns a deafened ear away
     And will not to her rescue speed.
Not to the swift the race is due—
     The victory given to the strong—
The ‘God of Battles’ is our trust,
     We and our cause to Him belong.

There is no word for you like ‘fail;’
     They never, never can subdue
Your gallant band, if you to God,
     Your country and yourselves are true.

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