INVOCATION TO THE FLAG.
Reading edition
Dedicated to the D. A. R.’s.
Our own dear flag, the stripes and stars, In peace like “bird of promise” flying. When War’s dread battles fiercely wage, All tyranny and wrong defying. Legions beneath its beckoning folds, Start at the sound of bugle calling. Eager to lift oppression’s yoke, From fainting brothers, bravely falling. Lead on, dear flag, our heroes true, O’er mountain pass and wild savanna. Till victories by their prowess won. Ring a new nation’s glad hozanna. Float o’er them where they bravely stand, The bursting shell and cannon daring, And glory wreathe their chaplets fair, Who fall, another’s burden sharing. Wave proudly on, where hastening ships Sweep the white wave, like tempest flying. Give freedom to the toiling slave, Give life to Cuba’s children dying. Shine on, bright stars, glad folds unroll O’er far-off islands care beseeching, Lighten old Afric’s age of night, Give aid to Asia’s millions reaching. On wings of dawn, where Orient smiles, To gates of sunset, ocean laving. Bear light and hope, while earth shall hail, Our flag, for right and freedom waving. June 14th, 1898. CARRIE P. GUTHRIE.
UNFURL THE FLAG.
By Rev. Artemas Jean Haynes, Pastor Plymouth Church, Chicago.
Unfurl the flag! the flag of freedom’s birth— The stainless banner of our loyal host; Unfurl the flag! proclaim to all the earth That war for conquest is not Freedom’s boast. Shake out the crimson folds in God’s great strife— Our country’s pledge to liberty and life. Unfurl the flag! stand forth in Christ’s own name— For God’s dread day of Judgment is at hand; Unfurl the flag! and smite with sudden shame, Relentless tyrants from our sisterland. Each waving fold of white, each star shall bear Our love to those whose griefs we seek to share. Unfurl the flag! we battle not for gain— We march as those who march to right a wrong; Unfurl the flag! not to avenge the slain, Unfurl it for the weak who trust the strong: Fling out the blue! our battle flag unfurled— Warfare for love, and freedom for the world. Unfurl the flag! red, white and blue wave high— Wave on to battle every loyal son; Unfurl the flag! hear Thou, O God, our cry— Blaze Thou the way until our task be done; Until the night falls on the hosts of wrong, And morning breaks to Freedom’s triumph song.
THE AMERICAN FLAG.
By Joseph Rodman Drake.
When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there; She mingled with its glorious dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure celestial white With streakings of the morning’s light; Then from his mansion in the sun She called her eagle-bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land. Majestic monarch of the cloud! Who rear’st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, And see the lightning lances driven, When strive the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder drum of heaven— Child of the sun! to thee ’tis given To guard the banner of the free, To hover in the sulphur’us smoke, To ward away the battle-stroke, And bid its blendings shine afar, Like rainbows on the cloud of war, The harbingers of victory. Flag of the brave, thy folds shall fly The sign of hope and triumph high, When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on; And yet the life blood, warm and wet, Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, Each soldier’s eye shall brightly turn, To where thy sky-born glories burn; And, as his springing steps advance, Catch war and vengeance from the glance; And when the cannon-mouthings loud, Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud, And gory sabers rise and fall, Like shoots of flame on midnight’s pall. There shall thy meteor glances glow, And cowering foes shall sink beneath Each gallant arm that strikes below That lovely messenger of death. Flag of the seas, on ocean wave, Thy stars shall glitter o’er the brave: When Death, careering on the gale, Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frighted waves, rush wildly back, Before the broadside’s reeling rack. Each dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee, And smile to see thy splendors fly In triumph o’er his closing eye. Flag of the free heart’s hope and home, By angel hands to valor given! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom’s soil beneath our feet, And Freedom’s banner streaming o’er us!
Fitz Greene Halleck wrote the last four lines of this poem.
BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC.
This beautiful song, which is set to the tune of “John Brown,” was written by Julia Ward Howe in 1861 just after her escape from a rebel raid when witnessing, with friends, a review of troops near Washington. In her dreams she was inspired by the beautiful thoughts and she immediately arose, and hastily noted them down.
It is considered one of the grandest battle hymns of the Republic and has been a favorite with several of our presidents.
BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC.
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 watchfires 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! There 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! be jubilant, my feet, Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me; As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.
CHICKAMAUGA.
This beautiful poem was written during the late war with Spain, and is inserted here, as entwined among the lines there is a sentiment that appeals to the hearts of the whole people.
CHICKAMAUGA.
They are camped on Chickamauga! Once again the white tents gleam On that field where vanished heroes Sleep the sleep that knows no dream. There are shadows all about them Of the ghostly troops to-day, But they light the common campfire— Those who wore the blue and gray. Where the pines of Georgia tower, Where the mountains kiss the sky, On their arms the nation’s warriors Wait to hear the battle cry. Wait together, friends and brothers, And the heroes ’neath their feet Sleep the long and dreamless slumber Where the flowers are blooming sweet. Sentries, pause, yon shadow challenge! Rock-ribbed Thomas goes that way— He who fought the foes unyielding In that awful battle fray. Yonder pass the shades of heroes, And they follow where Bragg leads Through the meadows and the river, But no ghost the sentry heeds. Field of fame, a patriot army Treads thy sacred sod to-day! And they’ll fight a common foeman, Those who wore the blue and gray, And they’ll fight for common country, And they’ll charge to victory ’Neath the folds of one brave banner— Starry banner of the free! They are camped on Chickamauga, Where the green tents of the dead Turn the soil into a glory Where a nation’s heart once bled; But they’re clasping hands together On this storied field of strife— Brothers brave who meet to battle In the freedom-war of life! —Baltimore News.
THE BON HOMME RICHARD FLAG.
This historic old flag, also known as the Paul Jones Flag, composed of thirteen bars and but twelve stars, was unfurled by him and borne on the Bon Homme Richard September 23, 1776, during the action with the British frigate, the “Serapis,” and is probably the first flag bearing the stars and stripes ever hoisted over an American vessel of war, and also the first ever saluted by a foreign naval power.
This flag has been in the family of Mrs. H. R. P. Stafford, of Cottage City, Martha’s Vineyard, since 1784, and bequeathed by her to the National Museum at Washington.
But it must be remembered that Washington adopted the flag made by Betsy Ross five months previous to this.
“THE OLD THIRTEEN.” A Leaf from Illinois’ History.
In the little city of Shawneetown which is next in age to Kaskaskia, and consequently the second oldest town in the State, there reposes a relic of rare value, a genuine flag of Colonial days. It was found in the attic of the “Posey” building and is supposed to have been placed there by General Posey, who served under Washington in the Revolutionary war. The flag is now owned by Mr. Robinson, an eminent scientist, who for a life-time has taken pains to collect and preserve many valuable things for Illinois’ posterity to see, especially rare Indian curios excavated from in and around Shawneetown, which site was once the pottery of the Shawanee Indians.
The old flag is in rather a good state of preservation although faded and marred. Its thirteen stars are arranged similar to those on “Paul Jones’ flag”—in bars, but not horizontal. The rows of stars are placed diagonally and consist of one, three, five, three and one, which leaves a star in each corner and five forming the center diagonal. Illinois’ “Old Thirteen” has been framed and covered with glass to preserve it from the ravages of Time and to save it for the eyes of the children of coming generations.
COLUMBIA, THE GEM OF THE OCEAN.
Columbia, the gem of the ocean, The home of the brave and the free; The shrine of each patriot’s devotion, A world offers homage to thee; Thy mandates make heroes assemble; When liberty’s form stands in view; Thy banners make tyranny tremble, When borne by the red, white and blue. Three cheers for the red, white and blue, Three cheers for the red, white and blue, Thy mandates make tyranny tremble, When borne by the red, white and blue.
This song sometimes goes by the title of The Red, White and Blue. It was written and composed by David T. Shaw in 1843; later on, however, it was rearranged by Thomas à Becket, Esq., an Englishman.
HAIL COLUMBIA.
This was written by Hon. Joseph Hopkinson, of Philadelphia, at the request of a young friend—a theatrical singer whose appeal was for a patriotic song suitable for the times. England and France were quarreling and this country was necessarily a good deal agitated.
It was set to the music called The President’s March, which was composed by Philip Roth, a German, for Gen. Washington’s inauguration in the City Hall in New York. A great many people were for standing by our ally, France, but Gen. Washington insisted on strict neutrality; thus the song was requited to voice this sentiment. It appealed at once to both parties and charmed every one who heard it—was sung night after night, audiences joining in the chorus.
“Hail Columbia, happy land! Hail, ye heroes, heaven-born band; Who fought and bled in freedom’s cause. Who fought and bled in freedom’s cause. And when the storm of war was gone Enjoyed the peace your valor won; Let independence be our boast, Ever mindful what it cost, Ever grateful for the prize, Let the altar reach the skies.“ Chorus—Firm, united let us be, Rallying round our liberty; As a band of brothers joined, Peace and safety shall we find. “Immortal patriot, rise once more, Defend your rights, defend your shore; Let no rude foe with impious hand, Let no rude foe with impious hand, Invade the shrine where sacred lies Of toil and blood the well-earned prize, While offering peace, sincere and just, In heaven we place our manly trust That truth and justice shall prevail, And every scheme of bondage fail.”—Cho.
DIXIE.
Southrons, hear your country call you! Up, lest worse than death befall you! To arms! to arms! to arms in Dixie. Lo, all the beaconfires are lighted, Let all hearts be now united, To arms! to arms! to arms in Dixie. Chorus— Advance the flag of Dixie! Hurrah! Hurrah! For Dixie’s land we’ll take our stand, To live or die for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! Hear the northern thunders mutter! Northern flags in south wind flutter! To arms! to arms! to arms in Dixie! Send them back your fierce defiance, Stamp upon the cursed alliance; To arms! to arms! to arms in Dixie! Fear no danger, shun no labor, Lift up rifle, pike and saber! To arms! to arms! to arms in Dixie! Shoulder pressing close to shoulder, Let the odds make each heart bolder; To arms! to arms! to arms in Dixie! Swear upon your country’s altar Never to give up or falter; To arms! to arms! to arms in Dixie! Till the spoilers are defeated, Till the Lord’s work is completed, To arms! to arms! to arms in Dixie! If the loved ones weep in sadness, Victory soon shall bring them gladness, To arms! to arms! to arms in Dixie! Exultant pride soon banish sorrow; Smiles chase tears away to-morrow; To arms! to arms! to arms in Dixie! Chorus— Advance the flag of Dixie! Hurrah! Hurrah! In Dixie’s land we’ll take our stand, To live or die for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! —[Albert Pike.