HYMNS. Ex. CLXXXIX.-ARMY HYMN. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. O LORD of Hosts! Almighty King! Wake in our breast the living fires, Be Thou a pillared flame, to show God of all Nations! Sovereign Lord! From treason's rent, from murder's stain, Ex. CXC.-A WAR HYMN. THEODORE TILTON. 285 THOU who ordainest, for the land's salvation, By the great sign, foretold, of thy appearingComing in clouds, while mortal men stand fearingShow us, amid the smoke of battle clearing Thy chariot nearing! By the brave blood that floweth like a river, Slay thou our foes, or turn them to derision, Ex. CXCI.-ON BOARD THE CUMBERLAND, MARCH 7th, 1862. GEORGE H. BOKER. "STAND to your guns, men!" Morris cried. Small need to pass the word; Our men at quarters ranged themselves And then began the sailors' jests: A frown came over Morris' face; Manned by a rebel crew. "So shot your guns, and point them straight; We'll try of what her metal's made." Meanwhile the shapeless iron mass Came moving o'er the wave, As gloomy as a passing hearse, As silent as the grave. She reached our range. Our broadside rang, And shot and shell, a fire of hell, Against her sides we poured. ON BOARD THE CUMBERLAND. God's mercy! From her sloping roof As hail bounds from a cottage thatch, Or when against her dusky hull On, on, with fast increasing speed She heeded not-no gun she fired, Once more she backward drew a space, Her broadside through us sent. 287 We felt our vessel settling fast, [pumped, "The pumps! The pumps!" But they who From captain down to powder-boy, Two soldiers, but by chance aboard, And when a gun's crew lost a hand, Our forward magazine was drowned; And up from the sick bay Crawled out the wounded, red with blood, And round us gasping lay Yes, cheering, calling us by name, With decks afloat, and powder gone, "Up to the spar-deck! save yourselves! " We turned; we did not like to go; Some swore, some groaned with pain. We reached the deck. There Randall stood; It did our sore hearts good to hear As rushing on from wave to wave Brave Randall leaped upon the gun, And waved his cap in sport; "Well done! well aimed! I saw that shot Go through an open port!" It was our last, our deadliest shot; The deck was overflown; The poor ship staggered, lurched to port, And gave a living groan. Down, down, as headlong through the waves Our gallant vessel rushed, A thousand gurgling watery sounds Around my senses gushed. THE VARUNA. I tried to cheer. I can not say A blue mist closed around my eyes, When I awoke, a soldier lad, I tried to speak. He understood He turned me. There, thank God! the flag And there, while thread shall hang to thread, The noblest constellation set. Against our northern sky. A sign that we who live, may claim A monument, that needs no scroll, Ex. CXCII.-THE VARUNA. Sunk April 25th, 1862. GEORGE H. BOKER. 289 WHO has not heard of the dauntless Varuna? Crippled and leaking she entered the battle, Sinking and burning she fought through the fray, Crushed were her sides, and the waves ran across her, Ere, like a death-wounded lion at bay, Sternly she closed in the last fatal grapple, |