Send them home tenderly,
The sleepers at rest,
With hands meekly folded
On each silent breast;
Let them come back to slumber
Beneath northern skies,
Where true hearts may weep oer them,
And prayer incense rise.
Send them home tenderly,
The noble and true,
Scarce gone from their hearthstones -
Scarce whispered "Adieu"
Gone forth for their country,
Its rights to sustain,
But, all bleeding and lifeless,
Returning again.
Send them home tenderly,
Our martyr'd and brave,
With the stripes and stars round them,
All robed for the grave.
Bereaved mothers shall clasp them
In pride to their breast,
And the good of our nation
Shall weep where they rest.
Send them home tenderly,
Each wound gaping wide
Shall send myriads of voices
From the dark purple tide;
And strong hands shall be grasping
The bright, unsheath'd sword,
With fresh fervor to battle
For right and the Lord.
