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CHILDREN OF THE BATTLE FIELD. 211
O, hearts, that beat so loyal-true, For soothing and for saving — * God send our hopes back unto you, Crowned with immortal having !
Thank God. O, Love ! whereby we know
Beyond our little seeing, And feel serene compassions flow
Around the ache of being; Lo! clear o'er all the pain and dread
Of our most sore affliction, The sacred wings of Peace are spread
In brooding benediction.
—♦— THE CHILDREN OF THE BATTLE-FIELD.
BY JAMES G. CLARKE.
UPON the field of Gettysburg The summer sun was high, When Freedom met her haughty foe
Beneath a Northern sky : Among the heroes of the North,
Who swelled her grand array,