You go, my son, to the battle-field,
To repel the invading foe;
Mid its fiercest conflicts _never_ yield
Till death shall lay you low.
Our God, who smiles upon the Right
And frowns upon the Wrong,
Will nerve you for our holy fight,
And make your courage strong.
Our cause is just, for it we pray
At morning, noon, and night,
Upon our banners we inscribe,
God, Liberty, and Right.
I love you as I love my life,
You are my only son;
Your country calls, go forth and fight
Till Freedom's cause is won.
It may be that you fall in death,
Contending for your home,
Yet your aged mother will not be
Forsaken though alone.
A thousand generous hearts there are
Throughout this sunny land,
Whose ample fortunes will be spent
With an unsparing hand.
Now go, my son, a mother's prayers
Will ever follow thee;
And in the thickest of the fight
Strike home for liberty!
On every hill, in every glen,
We'll fight till we are free;
We'll fight till every limpid brook
Runs crimson to the sea.
No truce we know, till every foe
Shall leave our hallowed sod,
And we regain that heaven-born boon,
"Freedom to worship God."