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J. E. Tilton, 1866 - American poetry - 320 pages
 

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Page 41 - 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.
Page 42 - 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.
Page 42 - 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.
Page 19 - That poured delight from other lands ! Rouse there the dancer's restless feet: The trumpet leads our warrior bands. And ye that wage the war of words With mystic fame and subtle power, Go, chatter to the idle birds, Or teach the lesson of the hour!
Page 41 - 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 watch-fires 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.
Page 11 - OUR COUNTRY. ON primal rocks she wrote her name, Her towers were reared on holy graves, The golden seed that bore her came Swift-winged with prayer o'er ocean waves. The Forest bowed his solemn crest, And open flung his sylvan doors ; Meek Rivers led the appointed Guest To clasp the wide-embracing shores ; Till, fold by fold, the broidered Land To swell her virgin vestments grew, While Sages, strong in heart and hand, Her virtue's fiery girdle drew.
Page 41 - He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps: His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel; "As ye deal with my condemners, so with you my grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God...
Page 25 - But pause, ere ye pass to taste it, one act must accomplished be, — Salute the flag in its virtue, before ye sit down with me. The flag of our stately battles, not struggles of wrath and greed, Its stripes were a holy lesson, its spangles a deathless creed ; 'Twas red with the blood of freemen, and white with the fear of the foe ; And the stars that fight in their courses 'gainst tyrants its symbols know.
Page 12 - Swift-winged with prayer o'er ocean waves. The Forest bowed his solemn crest, And open flung his sylvan doors ; Meek Rivers led the appointed Guest To clasp the wide-embracing shores ; Till, fold by fold, the 'broidered Land To swell her virgin vestments grew, While Sages, strong in heart and hand, Her virtue's fiery girdle drew. O Exile of the wrath of Kings ! O Pilgrim Ark of Liberty ! The refuge of divinest things, Their record must abide in thee. First in the glories of thy front Let the crown-jewel...
Page 24 - THERE'S a flag hangs over my threshold, whose folds are more dear to me Than the blood that thrills in my bosom its earnest of liberty; And dear are the stars it harbors in its sunny field of blue As the hope of a further heaven that lights all our dim lives through...

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