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When my brothers fall around me,
Should my heart grow cold and numb ? ' But the drum Answered, 'Come!
Better there in death united, than in life a recreant, Come ! '
Thus they answered, hoping, fearing,
Some in faith, and doubting some, Till a trumpet-voice proclaiming, Said, ' My chosen people, come ! ' Then the drum, Lo ! was dumb,
For the great heart of the nation, throbbing, answered, 'Lord, we come! '
OCX
WHAT THE BULLET SANG
O JOY of creation To be !
rapture to fly
And be free ! Be the battle lost or won Though its smoke shall hide the sun,
1 shall find my love the one
Born for me !
I shall know him where he stands,
All alone, With the power in his hands
Not o'erthrown;
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