March to the Battlefield.

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By G. W. C.
Air "Oft in the stilly night."

March to the battlefield,
The foe is now before us;
Each heart is freedom's shield,
And heaven is smiling o'er us
The

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woes and pains of slavery's chains,
That bind their millions under;
In proud disdain we'll burst their chain,
And tear each link asunder.

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Who for his country brave,
Would fly from her invader?
Who his base life to save
Would traitor like degrade her?
Our hallowed cause —
Our homes and laws,
'Gainst tyrant hosts sustaining,
We'll win a crown of bright renown,
Or die, man's rights maintaining,
March to the battlefield, &c.