.. why don't ye proceed?
Can't you see I am dying? Great God, how I bleed!
Ebbing away!
Ebbing away!
The light of day
Is turning to gray.
Pray!
Pray!
Our Father in Heaven,--boys, tell me the rest,
While I stanch the hot blood from this hole in my breast.
There's something about the forgiveness of sin--
Put that in! put that in!--and then
I'll follow your words and say an amen.
Here, Morris, old fellow, get hold of my hand;
And, Wilson, my comrade--O, wasn't it grand
When they came down the hill like a thunder-charged cloud!
Where's Wilson, my comrade?--Here, stoop down your head;
Can't _you_ say a short prayer for the dying and dead!
"Christ God, who died for sinners all,
Hear thou this suppliant wanderer's cry;
Let not e'en this poor sparrow fall
Unheeded by thy gracious eye.
"Throw wide thy gates to let him in,
And take him, pleading, to thine arms;
Forgive, O Lord! his life-long sin.
And quiet all his fierce alarms."
God bless you, my comrade, for saying that hymn;
It is light to my path when my eye has grown dim.
I am dying--bend down till I touch you once more--
Don't forget me, old fellow,--God prosper this war!
Confusion to traitors!--keep hold of my hand--
And float the OLD FLAG o'er a prosperous land!
JOHN W. WATSON.
* * * * *
SOMEBODY'S DARLING.
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