The Southern Mother's Charge

You go, my son, to the battle-field To repel the invading foe; 'Mid its fiercest conflicts never yield Till death shall lay you low. Our God, who smiles upon the Right, And frowns upon the Wrong, Will nerve you for our holy fight, And make your courage strong. Our cause is just. For it we pray At morning, noon and night; Upon our banners we inscribe God, Liberty and Right. I love you as my life, My dear beloved son; Your country calls-go forth and fight Till Freedom's cause is won. It may be that you fall in death, Contending for your home, Yet your aged mother will not be Forsaken, though alone. A thousand generous hearts there are Throughout this sunny land, Whose ample fortunes will be spent With an unsparing hand. Now go, my son; a mother's prayers Will ever follow thee; And in the thickest of the fight Strike home for liberty. On every hill, in every glen, We'll fight till we are free- We'll fight till every limpid brook Runs crimson to the sea. No truce we know, till every foe Shall leave our hallowed sod, And we regain that Heaven born boon- 'Freedom to worship God.'