June, 1866

The breath of the south wind was laden with woe As it moaned to the Northland “Prepare for the foe!” And the Northland was silent a moment, and then There was hieing and arming and marching of men.

To the front! There’s a struggle—the crisis is past! The foemen are flying! woe, woe to the last! There’s a hush, only stirred by the zephyr of peace, Wafting thanks to the God who makes fighting to cease.

But, oh! with the voice of that zephyr a cry Strives up after justice that seemeth to fly From the nations of earth.—O our God have regard To that cry; let the cause of the injured be heard!

From the blood of the true, the unselfish, the brave, From the women and children they perished to save, Goes a cry that no sound of rejoicing can still: “Judge between us and those who have sanctioned this ill.”