Stand! the ground's your own, my braves!Will ye give it up to slaves?Will ye look for greener graves?Hope ye mercy still?What's the mercy despots feel?Hear it in that battle-peal!Read it on yon bristling steel!Ask it,—ye who will. — John Pierpont Share this quote Post on X Facebook Download image Copy quote Copy link Share… Another quote →
From every place below the skiesThe grateful song, the fervent prayer,—The incense of the heart, —may riseTo heaven, and find acceptance there.
A weapon that comes down as stillAs snowflakes fall upon the sod;But executes a freeman's will,As lightning does the will of God;And from its force nor doors nor locksCan shield you,—'t is the ballot-box.
Yes, we all live to God!Father, Thy chastening rod,So help us, Thine afflicted ones, to bear,That in the spirit land,Meeting at Thy right hand,'Twill be our heaven to find that He is there!