SOFTLY now the day is dawning, Song-birds sing the lays of morning; All else around is calm and still, Except the picket on the hill. Now where once the morning breeze Sweetly floated through the trees; Grim earth-batteries rear on high Their ghastly heads up to the sky. Prom morning's light to evening shades We dwell in dread of martial raids; With faith we trust protecting power Will shelter us in this dark hour. Listen! now the signal-gun Tells the picket's work is done; No more will he watch and wait -- Stands he now at heaven's gate. Yes, the picket's race is run, And his heavenly life begun. |