ngues awake,
Let all that breathe partake,
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.

Our father's God, to thee,
Author of liberty,
To thee I sing;
Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by thy might,
Great God our King.

[Illustration: GEN. PETER J. OSTERHAUS.]

[Illustration: COMBINATION KNIFE, FORK, AND SPOON.]

KINGDOM COMING.

(Used by permission of S. Brainard's Sons, owners of the copyright.)

KEY OF C.

[Illustration: BRIG. GEN. ALBERT L. LEE.]

Say, darkies, hab you seen old massa,
Wid de muffstash on his face,
Go long de road some time dis mornin',
Like he gwine to leave de place?
He seen a smoke way up de ribber
Whar de Linkum gunboats lay;
He took his hat an' left berry sudden,
An' I 'spect he's run'd away!

CHORUS.

De massa run, ha, ha!
De darky stay! ho, ho!
It mus' be now de kingdom comin'
An' de year of Jubilo!

He is six foot one way, four foot tudder,
An' he weigh tree hundred pounds;
His coat so big he couldn't pay de tailor,
An' it wouldn't go half way round;
He drill so much dey call him Cap'n,
An' he get so drefful tanned,
I 'spects he'll try an' fool dem Yankees
For to tink he's contraband.--CHORUS.

De darkies feel so lonesome libbing
In de log house on de lawn
Dey move dar tings to massa's parlor
For to keep it while he's gone.
Dar's wine an' cider in de kitchen,
An' de darkies dey'll hab some;
I s'pose dey'll all be confiscated
When de Linkum soldiers come.--CHO.

De oberseer he make us trubble,
An' he dribe us round a spell;
We lock him up in de smoke-house cellar,
Wid de key trown in de well;
De whip is lost, de han'cuff broken;
But de massa'll habe his pay;
He's ole enough, big enough, ought to know better
Dan to went and run away.--CHORUS.

[Illustration: BRIG. GEN. JOHN M'ARTHUR.]

THE VACANT CHAIR.

(Used by permission of S. Brainard's Sons.)

KEY OF A FLAT.

[Illustration: GEN. ALVIN P. HOVEY.]

We shall meet, but we shall miss him;
There will be one vacant chair;
We shall linger to caress him
While we breathe our evening prayer.
When, a year ago, we gathered
Joy was in his mild blue eye;
But a golden cord is severed,
And our hopes in ruin lie.

CHORUS.

We shall meet, but we shall miss him;
There will be one vacant chair;
We shall linger to caress him
When we breathe our evening prayer.

At our fireside, sad and lonely,
Oft