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Bury the Brave where they Fall
Oh bury the brave on the field where they fall. Let them sleep beneath
Thoug nameless the graves where their ashes repose. all unhallowed
The sunlight and rain will awken the flowers that in beauty Oer
The Sod;... That drank up their blood in the dedly affray, When Their
by Tears, Their Laurels are fade less , They never can die, While we
them wave, The soft whispering breezes a re quiem sad, Murmering
spirits went home to God: Let their resting place be where their
measure the fleeting years; Though no marble may rise O'er their
Over their lonely graves But we mourn for them not as all
brave deeds were done; With the banner The banner for Their shroud; And its
low lonely beds, there to point out the sacred sacred spot,...Yet tho
camly they sleep, Far away from the loving household band, For the
stars shall keep watch as they peacefully sleep, Far away from the gathering crowd
harts of the nation will their memory keep, Its dead heroes never forgot
brave and the noble die Never in vain where they die for their native land
Then sleep on and soft be thy repose, And greener the Turf
Chorus
on thy breast...The glorious stars Shall watch, shall watch O'er the graves
where the heroes rest
1st The loud winds dwindled to a whisper low
And sighed for Pity as it answered No! No!
2nd The loud waves rolling in perpetual flow
Stoped for a while and sighed to answer No! No!
Be hind a cloud the moon with drew in two
And a voice sweet but sad responded No! No!
4th Faith, hope, and love, best boons to mortals given
[Wai?] their bright wings and whispered, "Yes in heav'n"
Where can the soul find rest
Tell us ye wing-ed winds that round my path way roar,
Tell me thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play,
And thou, serenest moon, that with such holy face,
Tell me my secret soul, Oh! tell me hope and faith,
Do ye not know some spot, where mortals weep no more
Know thou some favored spot, some Island far away
Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's embrace;
Is there no resting place from sorrow sin and death;
some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west
where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighs;
Tell me in all thy round, hast there not found some spot,
Is there no happy spot where mortals may be blest
Where free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest.
Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies!
Where we poor wretched men may find a happier lot!
Where grief may find a balm, and wearyness a rest!
The loud winds dwindled to a whisper low
And sighed for pity as it answered No! No!
Spred away
Sung at Funeral train in 1865---as the train bearing Lincoln's body.
by Ellen Arrington, alto
Frank Hoblit Bass
Tenor
May Downey [air?]
Purchased 2/27/56---Mrs. Frank W. Ryan, Lincoln, Ill