To Jessie B. Fremont
[No. 91; Filed 2 Mar 1863; Deposted 31 Mar 1863;
Copyright Library Oct 1863; M 1640.C]
"Fremont[']s Battle Hymn" (1863)
Quartett
Written and Composed  by
James Gowdy Clark, 1830-1897

Rochester: Joseph P. Shaw, 110 State Street 
[Source: 1863-200000402@LoC/CWM]

1. O! spirits of Washington, Warren and Wayne!
O! shades of the Heros and patriots slain!
Come down from your mountains of emerald and gold,
And smile on the banner ye cherished of old:
Descend in your glorified ranks to the strife,
Like legions sent forth from his armies of life;
Let us feel your deep presence, as waves feel the breeze 
When the white fleets, like snow flakes, are drank by the seas.

CHORUS [sung after each verse]
We strike that the living may never be slave
We strike for our banner 
We strike for the braves 
Whose bodies lie cold in Virginian graves, 
And this shall our motto in victory be, 
God and liberty God and liberty
God and liberty God and the free.

2. As the red lightnings run on the black jagged cloud
Ere the thunder king speaks from his wind woven shroud,
So gleams the light steel along valley and shore
Ere the combat shall startle the land with its roar,
As the veil which conceals the clear starlight is riven
When clouds strike together by warring winds driven,
So the blood of the race must be offered like rain,
Ere the stars of our country are ransomed again.

3. Proud sons of the soil where the Palmetto grows,
Once patriots and brother, now traitors and foes,
Ye have turned from the path which our forefathers trod,
And stolen from man the best gift of his God;
Ye have trampled the tendrills of love in the ground,
Ye have scoffed at the law which the Nazarene found,
Till the great wheel of justice seemed blocked for a time,
And the eyes of humanity blinded with crime.

4. The hounds of oppression were howling the knell
Of martyrs, and prophets at gibbet and cell,
While Mercy dispaired of the blossoming years
When her harp strings no more should be rusted with tears,
But God never ceases to strike for the right,
And the ring of His anvil came down through the night
Tho’ the world was asleep, and the nations seemed dead, 
And Truth into bondage by Error was led.

5. Will the banners of morn at your bidding be furled
When the day king arises to quicken the world!
Can ye cool the fierce fires of his heart throbbing breast
Or turn him aside from his goal in the West:
Ah! sons of the plains where the orange tree blooms,
Ye may come to our pine covered mountains for tombs;
But the light ye would smother was kindled by one
Who gave to the universe planet and sun.

6. Go, strangle the throat of Niagara’s wrath,
Till he utters no sound on his torrent cut path;
Go, bind his green sinews of rock wearing waves,
Till he begs at your feet like your own fettered slaves.
Go, cover his pulses with sods of the ground,
Till he hides from your sight like a hare from the hound;
Then swarm to our borders and silence the notes
That thunder of freedom from millions of throats.

7. Come on with your “chattels,” all worn, from the soil!
Where men receive scourging in payment for toil;
Come, robbers; come, traitors; we welcome you all,
As the leaves of the forest are welcomed by fall.
The birthright of manhood awaits for your slaves,
But prisons and halters are waiting for knaves;
And the blades of our “mudhills” are longing to rust 
With their blood you would bury our stars in the dust.

8. The streams may forget how they mingled our gore,
And the myrtle entwine on their borders once more:
The song birds of peace may return to our glades,
And children join hands where their fathers joined blades;
Columbia may rise from her trial of fire
More pure than she came from the hand of her sire;
But Freedom will lift the cold finger or scorn 
When History tells where her Traitors were born.