20 "A Little Child Shall Lead Them."

This badge of the Loyal Legion We placed upon her breast, As she lay in her little coffin Taking her last sweet rest.

To wear that badge as a token She earnestly did crave, So we laid it on her bosom To wear it in the grave.

Where sorrow would never reach her Nor harsh words smite her ear; Nor her eyes in death dimmed slumber Would ever shed a tear.

"What means this badge?" said her father, Whom we had tried to save; Who said, when we told her story, "Don't put it in the grave."

We took the badge from her bosom And laid it on a chair; And men by drink deluded Knelt by that badge in prayer.

And vowed in that hour of sorrow From drink they would abstain;