en will the bosom swell
At remembrance of the story
How our noble Willie fell;
How he strove to bear our banner
Through the thickest of the fight,
And upheld our country's honor
In the strength of manhood's might.--CHORUS.

True, they tell us wreaths of glory
Evermore will deck his brow;
But this soothes the anguish only
Sweeping o'er our heart strings now.
Sleep, today, O early fallen!
In thy green and narrow bed;
Dirges from the pine and cypress
Mingle with the tears we shed.--CHORUS.

[Illustration: GEN. NATHAN KIMBALL.]

NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE.

KEY OF G.

[Illustration: MAJ. GEN. E.O.C. ORD.]

Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!
E'en though it be a cross
That raiseth me!
Still all my song shall be,
Nearer my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

Though, like a wanderer,
The sun gone down,
Darkness be over me,
My rest a stone,
Yet in my dreams I'd be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

There let the way appear
Steps unto heaven;
All that Thou sendest me
In mercy given;
Angels to beckon me
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

Then, with my waking thoughts
Bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs
Bethel I'll raise;
So by my woes to be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

[Illustration: ADMIRAL DAVID D. PORTER.]

[Illustration: SHRAPNEL CONTAINING 80 MUSKET BALLS.]

TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP.

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

KEY OF B FLAT.

[Illustration: BRIG. GEN. EUGENE A. CARR.]

In the prison cell I sit, thinking, mother, dear, of you,
And our bright and happy home so far away,
And the tears they fill my eyes, spite of all that I can do,
Tho' I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.

CHORUS.

Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching;
Cheer up, comrades, they will come,
And beneath the starry flag
We shall breathe the air again
Of the Free-land in our own beloved home.

[Illustration: FIRST CORPS.]

In the battle front we stood when the fiercest charge was made,
And they swept us off a hundred men or more;
But before we reached their lines they were beaten back dismayed,
And we hear the cry of victory o'er and o'er.--CHORUS.

So within the prison cell we are waiting for the day
That shall come to open wide the iron door,
And the hollow eye grows bright and the poor heart almost gay
As we think of seeing friends and home once more.--CHORUS.

[Illustration: MAJ. GE