Southern War Hymn
Arise! arise! with arm of might,
Sons of our sunny home!
Gird on the sword for the sacred fight,
For the battle-hour hath come!
Arise! for the felon foe draws nigh
In battle’s dread array;
To the front, ye brave! let the coward fly,
’Tis the hero that bides the fray!
Strike hot and hard, my noble band,
With the arm of fight and fire;
Strike fast for God and Fatherland,
For mother, and wife, and sire.
Though thunders roar and lightnings flash,
Oh! Southrons, never fear,
Ye shall turn the bolt with the sabre’s clash,
And the shaft with the steely spear.
Bright blooms shall wave o’er the hero’s grave,
While the craven finds no rest;
Thrice cursed the traitor, the slave, the knave,
While thrice is the hero blessed
To the front in the fight, ye Southrons, stand,
Brave spirits, with eagle eye,
And standing for God and for Fatherland,
Ye will gallantly do or die.
Charleston Courier.