On a Christmas eve an emigrant trainSped on through the blackness of night,And cleft the pitchy dark in twainWith the gleam of its fierce headlight.In a crowded car, a noisome place,Sat a mother and her child;The woman’s face bore want’s wan trace,But the little one only smiled,And tugged and pulled at her mother’s dress,And her voice had a merry ring,As she lisped, “Now, mamma, come and guessWhat Santa Claus’ll bring.”But sadly the mother shook her head,As she thought of a happier past;“He never can catch us here,” she said“The train is going too fast.”“O, mamma, yes, he’ll come, I say,So swift are his little deer,They run all over the world to-day;—I’llhang my stocking up here.”She pinned her stocking to the seat,And closed her tired eyes;And soon she saw each longed-for sweetIn dreamland’s paradise.On a seat behind the little maidA rough man sat apart,But a soft light o’er his features played,And stole into his heart.As the cars drew up at a busy townThe rough man left the train,But scarce had from the steps jumped downEre he was back again.And a great big bundle of Christmas joysBulged out from his pocket wide;He filled the stocking with sweets and toysHe laid by the dreamer’s side.At dawn the little one woke with a shout,’Twas sweet to hear her glee;“I knowed that Santa Claus would find me out,He caught the train you see.”Though some from smiling may scarce refrain,The child was surely right,The good St. Nicholas caught the train,And came aboard that night.For the saint is fond of masqueradeAnd may fool the old and wise,And so he came to the little maidIn an emigrant’s disguise.And he dresses in many ways becauseHe wishes no one to know him,For he never says, “I am Santa Claus,”But his good deeds always show him.Henry C. Walsh.
On a Christmas eve an emigrant trainSped on through the blackness of night,And cleft the pitchy dark in twainWith the gleam of its fierce headlight.In a crowded car, a noisome place,Sat a mother and her child;The woman’s face bore want’s wan trace,But the little one only smiled,And tugged and pulled at her mother’s dress,And her voice had a merry ring,As she lisped, “Now, mamma, come and guessWhat Santa Claus’ll bring.”But sadly the mother shook her head,As she thought of a happier past;“He never can catch us here,” she said“The train is going too fast.”“O, mamma, yes, he’ll come, I say,So swift are his little deer,They run all over the world to-day;—I’llhang my stocking up here.”She pinned her stocking to the seat,And closed her tired eyes;And soon she saw each longed-for sweetIn dreamland’s paradise.On a seat behind the little maidA rough man sat apart,But a soft light o’er his features played,And stole into his heart.As the cars drew up at a busy townThe rough man left the train,But scarce had from the steps jumped downEre he was back again.And a great big bundle of Christmas joysBulged out from his pocket wide;He filled the stocking with sweets and toysHe laid by the dreamer’s side.At dawn the little one woke with a shout,’Twas sweet to hear her glee;“I knowed that Santa Claus would find me out,He caught the train you see.”Though some from smiling may scarce refrain,The child was surely right,The good St. Nicholas caught the train,And came aboard that night.For the saint is fond of masqueradeAnd may fool the old and wise,And so he came to the little maidIn an emigrant’s disguise.And he dresses in many ways becauseHe wishes no one to know him,For he never says, “I am Santa Claus,”But his good deeds always show him.Henry C. Walsh.
On a Christmas eve an emigrant trainSped on through the blackness of night,And cleft the pitchy dark in twainWith the gleam of its fierce headlight.
On a Christmas eve an emigrant train
Sped on through the blackness of night,
And cleft the pitchy dark in twain
With the gleam of its fierce headlight.
In a crowded car, a noisome place,Sat a mother and her child;The woman’s face bore want’s wan trace,But the little one only smiled,
In a crowded car, a noisome place,
Sat a mother and her child;
The woman’s face bore want’s wan trace,
But the little one only smiled,
And tugged and pulled at her mother’s dress,And her voice had a merry ring,As she lisped, “Now, mamma, come and guessWhat Santa Claus’ll bring.”
And tugged and pulled at her mother’s dress,
And her voice had a merry ring,
As she lisped, “Now, mamma, come and guess
What Santa Claus’ll bring.”
But sadly the mother shook her head,As she thought of a happier past;“He never can catch us here,” she said“The train is going too fast.”
But sadly the mother shook her head,
As she thought of a happier past;
“He never can catch us here,” she said
“The train is going too fast.”
“O, mamma, yes, he’ll come, I say,So swift are his little deer,They run all over the world to-day;—I’llhang my stocking up here.”
“O, mamma, yes, he’ll come, I say,
So swift are his little deer,
They run all over the world to-day;—I’ll
hang my stocking up here.”
She pinned her stocking to the seat,And closed her tired eyes;And soon she saw each longed-for sweetIn dreamland’s paradise.
She pinned her stocking to the seat,
And closed her tired eyes;
And soon she saw each longed-for sweet
In dreamland’s paradise.
On a seat behind the little maidA rough man sat apart,But a soft light o’er his features played,And stole into his heart.
On a seat behind the little maid
A rough man sat apart,
But a soft light o’er his features played,
And stole into his heart.
As the cars drew up at a busy townThe rough man left the train,But scarce had from the steps jumped downEre he was back again.
As the cars drew up at a busy town
The rough man left the train,
But scarce had from the steps jumped down
Ere he was back again.
And a great big bundle of Christmas joysBulged out from his pocket wide;He filled the stocking with sweets and toysHe laid by the dreamer’s side.
And a great big bundle of Christmas joys
Bulged out from his pocket wide;
He filled the stocking with sweets and toys
He laid by the dreamer’s side.
At dawn the little one woke with a shout,’Twas sweet to hear her glee;“I knowed that Santa Claus would find me out,He caught the train you see.”
At dawn the little one woke with a shout,
’Twas sweet to hear her glee;
“I knowed that Santa Claus would find me out,
He caught the train you see.”
Though some from smiling may scarce refrain,The child was surely right,The good St. Nicholas caught the train,And came aboard that night.
Though some from smiling may scarce refrain,
The child was surely right,
The good St. Nicholas caught the train,
And came aboard that night.
For the saint is fond of masqueradeAnd may fool the old and wise,And so he came to the little maidIn an emigrant’s disguise.
For the saint is fond of masquerade
And may fool the old and wise,
And so he came to the little maid
In an emigrant’s disguise.
And he dresses in many ways becauseHe wishes no one to know him,For he never says, “I am Santa Claus,”But his good deeds always show him.
And he dresses in many ways because
He wishes no one to know him,
For he never says, “I am Santa Claus,”
But his good deeds always show him.
Henry C. Walsh.
Henry C. Walsh.
At the break of Christmas day,Through the frosty starlight ringing,Faint and sweet and far away,Comes the sound of children, singing,Chanting, singing,“Cease to mourn,For Christ is born,Peace and joy to all men bringing!”Careless that the chill winds blow,Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,Noiseless footfalls in the snowBringing the happy voices nearer;Hear them singing,“Winter’s drear,But Christ is here,Mirth and gladness with him bringing!”“Merry Christmas!” hear them sayAs the east is growing lighter;“May the joy of Christmas dayMake your whole year gladder, brighter!”Join their singing,“To each homeOur Christ has come,All Love’s treasures with him bringing!”Margaret Deland.
At the break of Christmas day,Through the frosty starlight ringing,Faint and sweet and far away,Comes the sound of children, singing,Chanting, singing,“Cease to mourn,For Christ is born,Peace and joy to all men bringing!”Careless that the chill winds blow,Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,Noiseless footfalls in the snowBringing the happy voices nearer;Hear them singing,“Winter’s drear,But Christ is here,Mirth and gladness with him bringing!”“Merry Christmas!” hear them sayAs the east is growing lighter;“May the joy of Christmas dayMake your whole year gladder, brighter!”Join their singing,“To each homeOur Christ has come,All Love’s treasures with him bringing!”Margaret Deland.
At the break of Christmas day,Through the frosty starlight ringing,Faint and sweet and far away,Comes the sound of children, singing,Chanting, singing,“Cease to mourn,For Christ is born,Peace and joy to all men bringing!”
At the break of Christmas day,
Through the frosty starlight ringing,
Faint and sweet and far away,
Comes the sound of children, singing,
Chanting, singing,
“Cease to mourn,
For Christ is born,
Peace and joy to all men bringing!”
Careless that the chill winds blow,Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,Noiseless footfalls in the snowBringing the happy voices nearer;Hear them singing,“Winter’s drear,But Christ is here,Mirth and gladness with him bringing!”
Careless that the chill winds blow,
Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,
Noiseless footfalls in the snow
Bringing the happy voices nearer;
Hear them singing,
“Winter’s drear,
But Christ is here,
Mirth and gladness with him bringing!”
“Merry Christmas!” hear them sayAs the east is growing lighter;“May the joy of Christmas dayMake your whole year gladder, brighter!”Join their singing,“To each homeOur Christ has come,All Love’s treasures with him bringing!”
“Merry Christmas!” hear them say
As the east is growing lighter;
“May the joy of Christmas day
Make your whole year gladder, brighter!”
Join their singing,
“To each home
Our Christ has come,
All Love’s treasures with him bringing!”
Margaret Deland.
Margaret Deland.
From the cold and frosty northland;Oh so far away,Santa Claus will soon be comingIn his little sleigh;Let us listen for the reindeers’Dancing, prancing feet,Let us wait old Santa’s jolly,Jolly face to greet!Listen, don’t you hear his sleigh-bellsOh so faintly ring,Santa Claus is surely comingMany gifts to bring;In his busy little workshopMany a long, long day,Pretty presents he has madeTo give them all away!Oh his sleigh-bells jingle, jingle,Very, very near;Can it be that dear old Santa’sReally almost here?Hark, they cease their silver music,Santa Claus has come!Welcome, welcome, dear old Santa,Welcome to each home!
From the cold and frosty northland;Oh so far away,Santa Claus will soon be comingIn his little sleigh;Let us listen for the reindeers’Dancing, prancing feet,Let us wait old Santa’s jolly,Jolly face to greet!Listen, don’t you hear his sleigh-bellsOh so faintly ring,Santa Claus is surely comingMany gifts to bring;In his busy little workshopMany a long, long day,Pretty presents he has madeTo give them all away!Oh his sleigh-bells jingle, jingle,Very, very near;Can it be that dear old Santa’sReally almost here?Hark, they cease their silver music,Santa Claus has come!Welcome, welcome, dear old Santa,Welcome to each home!
From the cold and frosty northland;Oh so far away,Santa Claus will soon be comingIn his little sleigh;Let us listen for the reindeers’Dancing, prancing feet,Let us wait old Santa’s jolly,Jolly face to greet!
From the cold and frosty northland;
Oh so far away,
Santa Claus will soon be coming
In his little sleigh;
Let us listen for the reindeers’
Dancing, prancing feet,
Let us wait old Santa’s jolly,
Jolly face to greet!
Listen, don’t you hear his sleigh-bellsOh so faintly ring,Santa Claus is surely comingMany gifts to bring;In his busy little workshopMany a long, long day,Pretty presents he has madeTo give them all away!
Listen, don’t you hear his sleigh-bells
Oh so faintly ring,
Santa Claus is surely coming
Many gifts to bring;
In his busy little workshop
Many a long, long day,
Pretty presents he has made
To give them all away!
Oh his sleigh-bells jingle, jingle,Very, very near;Can it be that dear old Santa’sReally almost here?Hark, they cease their silver music,Santa Claus has come!Welcome, welcome, dear old Santa,Welcome to each home!
Oh his sleigh-bells jingle, jingle,
Very, very near;
Can it be that dear old Santa’s
Really almost here?
Hark, they cease their silver music,
Santa Claus has come!
Welcome, welcome, dear old Santa,
Welcome to each home!
(For boy or girl, who has a stocking with a hole in it, and holds it up in the last verse, shows the hole and thrusts one or two fingers through it.)
(For boy or girl, who has a stocking with a hole in it, and holds it up in the last verse, shows the hole and thrusts one or two fingers through it.)
One Christmas eve when Santa ClausCame to a certain house,To fill the children’s stockings thereHe found a little mouse.“A merry Christmas, little friend,”Said Santa, good and kind.“The same to you, sir,” said the mouse,“I thought you wouldn’t mindIf I should stay awake to-nightAnd watch you for awhile.”“You’re very welcome, little mouse,”Said Santa with a smile.And then he filled the stockings upBefore the mouse could wink.—From toe to top, from top to toeThere wasn’t left a chink.“Now, they won’t hold another thing,”Said Santa Claus, with pride.A twinkle came in mouse’s eyes,But humbly he replied:“It’s not polite to contradict,—Your pardon I implore,—But in the fullest stocking thereI could put one thing more.”“Oh, ho!” laughed Santa, “silly mouse!Don’t I know how to pack?By filling stockings all these years,I should have learned the knack.”And then he took the stocking downFrom where it hung so high,And said: “Now put in one thing more;I give you leave to try.”The mousie chuckled to himself,And then he softly stoleRight to the stocking’s crowded toeAnd gnawed a little hole!“Now, if you please, good Santa Claus,I’ve put in one thing more;For you will own that little holeWas not in there before.”How Santa Claus did laugh and laugh!And then he gayly spoke:“Well! you shall have a Christmas cheeseFor that nice little joke.”If you don’t think this story true,Why I can show to youThe very stocking with the holeThe little mouse gnawed through!Emilie Poulsson.
One Christmas eve when Santa ClausCame to a certain house,To fill the children’s stockings thereHe found a little mouse.“A merry Christmas, little friend,”Said Santa, good and kind.“The same to you, sir,” said the mouse,“I thought you wouldn’t mindIf I should stay awake to-nightAnd watch you for awhile.”“You’re very welcome, little mouse,”Said Santa with a smile.And then he filled the stockings upBefore the mouse could wink.—From toe to top, from top to toeThere wasn’t left a chink.“Now, they won’t hold another thing,”Said Santa Claus, with pride.A twinkle came in mouse’s eyes,But humbly he replied:“It’s not polite to contradict,—Your pardon I implore,—But in the fullest stocking thereI could put one thing more.”“Oh, ho!” laughed Santa, “silly mouse!Don’t I know how to pack?By filling stockings all these years,I should have learned the knack.”And then he took the stocking downFrom where it hung so high,And said: “Now put in one thing more;I give you leave to try.”The mousie chuckled to himself,And then he softly stoleRight to the stocking’s crowded toeAnd gnawed a little hole!“Now, if you please, good Santa Claus,I’ve put in one thing more;For you will own that little holeWas not in there before.”How Santa Claus did laugh and laugh!And then he gayly spoke:“Well! you shall have a Christmas cheeseFor that nice little joke.”If you don’t think this story true,Why I can show to youThe very stocking with the holeThe little mouse gnawed through!Emilie Poulsson.
One Christmas eve when Santa ClausCame to a certain house,To fill the children’s stockings thereHe found a little mouse.
One Christmas eve when Santa Claus
Came to a certain house,
To fill the children’s stockings there
He found a little mouse.
“A merry Christmas, little friend,”Said Santa, good and kind.“The same to you, sir,” said the mouse,“I thought you wouldn’t mind
“A merry Christmas, little friend,”
Said Santa, good and kind.
“The same to you, sir,” said the mouse,
“I thought you wouldn’t mind
If I should stay awake to-nightAnd watch you for awhile.”“You’re very welcome, little mouse,”Said Santa with a smile.
If I should stay awake to-night
And watch you for awhile.”
“You’re very welcome, little mouse,”
Said Santa with a smile.
And then he filled the stockings upBefore the mouse could wink.—From toe to top, from top to toeThere wasn’t left a chink.
And then he filled the stockings up
Before the mouse could wink.—
From toe to top, from top to toe
There wasn’t left a chink.
“Now, they won’t hold another thing,”Said Santa Claus, with pride.A twinkle came in mouse’s eyes,But humbly he replied:
“Now, they won’t hold another thing,”
Said Santa Claus, with pride.
A twinkle came in mouse’s eyes,
But humbly he replied:
“It’s not polite to contradict,—Your pardon I implore,—But in the fullest stocking thereI could put one thing more.”
“It’s not polite to contradict,—
Your pardon I implore,—
But in the fullest stocking there
I could put one thing more.”
“Oh, ho!” laughed Santa, “silly mouse!Don’t I know how to pack?By filling stockings all these years,I should have learned the knack.”
“Oh, ho!” laughed Santa, “silly mouse!
Don’t I know how to pack?
By filling stockings all these years,
I should have learned the knack.”
And then he took the stocking downFrom where it hung so high,And said: “Now put in one thing more;I give you leave to try.”
And then he took the stocking down
From where it hung so high,
And said: “Now put in one thing more;
I give you leave to try.”
The mousie chuckled to himself,And then he softly stoleRight to the stocking’s crowded toeAnd gnawed a little hole!
The mousie chuckled to himself,
And then he softly stole
Right to the stocking’s crowded toe
And gnawed a little hole!
“Now, if you please, good Santa Claus,I’ve put in one thing more;For you will own that little holeWas not in there before.”
“Now, if you please, good Santa Claus,
I’ve put in one thing more;
For you will own that little hole
Was not in there before.”
How Santa Claus did laugh and laugh!And then he gayly spoke:“Well! you shall have a Christmas cheeseFor that nice little joke.”
How Santa Claus did laugh and laugh!
And then he gayly spoke:
“Well! you shall have a Christmas cheese
For that nice little joke.”
If you don’t think this story true,Why I can show to youThe very stocking with the holeThe little mouse gnawed through!
If you don’t think this story true,
Why I can show to you
The very stocking with the hole
The little mouse gnawed through!
Emilie Poulsson.
Emilie Poulsson.
“I don’t care, Iwillgo!So there, Mamma Mouse!The folks are all sleepingAll over the house;“The stockings are hanging—I smell the sweet bits.It’s enough to drive mousiesInto wild, crazy fits!”So when old Mrs. MouseWent off to her bed,The little mouse watched,And popped up his head.Then smelling his wayVery nicely along,He jumped into a stocking,So new and so strong.But a string on a bundleStuck out in a loop,And in it he tumbled,The poor silly dupe!Oh, then what bewailingsCame out of that stocking!Such moans and lamentings,It really was shocking!“O dear! and oh dear!I wish I was home!If I’d minded mamma,And hadn’t ’a’ come!”But ’twas all of no use.The string was so tightThat all he could doWas to wait for daylight.Then Ted gave a shoutThat awoke the whole house;For there in his stockingWas a little gray mouse!What became of him thenThe cat only can tell,But one thing I’ll say—I know very well(By Whole School in Concert).That he’ll never again on a Christmas EveJump into a stocking without any leave!
“I don’t care, Iwillgo!So there, Mamma Mouse!The folks are all sleepingAll over the house;“The stockings are hanging—I smell the sweet bits.It’s enough to drive mousiesInto wild, crazy fits!”So when old Mrs. MouseWent off to her bed,The little mouse watched,And popped up his head.Then smelling his wayVery nicely along,He jumped into a stocking,So new and so strong.But a string on a bundleStuck out in a loop,And in it he tumbled,The poor silly dupe!Oh, then what bewailingsCame out of that stocking!Such moans and lamentings,It really was shocking!“O dear! and oh dear!I wish I was home!If I’d minded mamma,And hadn’t ’a’ come!”But ’twas all of no use.The string was so tightThat all he could doWas to wait for daylight.Then Ted gave a shoutThat awoke the whole house;For there in his stockingWas a little gray mouse!What became of him thenThe cat only can tell,But one thing I’ll say—I know very well(By Whole School in Concert).That he’ll never again on a Christmas EveJump into a stocking without any leave!
“I don’t care, Iwillgo!So there, Mamma Mouse!The folks are all sleepingAll over the house;
“I don’t care, Iwillgo!
So there, Mamma Mouse!
The folks are all sleeping
All over the house;
“The stockings are hanging—I smell the sweet bits.It’s enough to drive mousiesInto wild, crazy fits!”
“The stockings are hanging—
I smell the sweet bits.
It’s enough to drive mousies
Into wild, crazy fits!”
So when old Mrs. MouseWent off to her bed,The little mouse watched,And popped up his head.
So when old Mrs. Mouse
Went off to her bed,
The little mouse watched,
And popped up his head.
Then smelling his wayVery nicely along,He jumped into a stocking,So new and so strong.
Then smelling his way
Very nicely along,
He jumped into a stocking,
So new and so strong.
But a string on a bundleStuck out in a loop,And in it he tumbled,The poor silly dupe!
But a string on a bundle
Stuck out in a loop,
And in it he tumbled,
The poor silly dupe!
Oh, then what bewailingsCame out of that stocking!Such moans and lamentings,It really was shocking!
Oh, then what bewailings
Came out of that stocking!
Such moans and lamentings,
It really was shocking!
“O dear! and oh dear!I wish I was home!If I’d minded mamma,And hadn’t ’a’ come!”
“O dear! and oh dear!
I wish I was home!
If I’d minded mamma,
And hadn’t ’a’ come!”
But ’twas all of no use.The string was so tightThat all he could doWas to wait for daylight.
But ’twas all of no use.
The string was so tight
That all he could do
Was to wait for daylight.
Then Ted gave a shoutThat awoke the whole house;For there in his stockingWas a little gray mouse!
Then Ted gave a shout
That awoke the whole house;
For there in his stocking
Was a little gray mouse!
What became of him thenThe cat only can tell,But one thing I’ll say—I know very well
What became of him then
The cat only can tell,
But one thing I’ll say—
I know very well
(By Whole School in Concert).
(By Whole School in Concert).
That he’ll never again on a Christmas EveJump into a stocking without any leave!
That he’ll never again on a Christmas Eve
Jump into a stocking without any leave!
(Comes in dressed in heavy winter garments, with long, white beard and pockets stuffed with toys).
(Comes in dressed in heavy winter garments, with long, white beard and pockets stuffed with toys).
(Music by band or orchestra can be introduced whenever deemed appropriate).
All over our land, in every cemetery where rests members of our army of the dead—and we doubt if any burial place has not such sleepers,—people are gathered to-day to pay tribute to our soldier dead and strew flowers over their graves. All hearts turn as by a common impulse to these ceremonies. We bring our offerings of flowers to the soldiers, but it affects them not; they cannot feel the love and gratitude that prompt the gift. Their lives and deeds have wrought for themselves more enduring monuments than sculptured marble. We assure the loving soldiers that they are not forgotten—that their courage and patriotism will always be remembered as long as a loyal school boy or school girl may live. But this day means more than this, it means something for our nation, something for posterity; its belief in that grand old flag and what it stands for; a belief in freedom. It means that the boys and girls of to-day, the men and women of to-morrow, who share in this day’s ceremonies, echo the words of our fathers, that “this government shall be preserved, come what will, threaten it who may.”
(For fifteen pupils each carrying a flag, and gesturing as indicated. Pupil 8 should carry a larger flag than the others. Seven to the left of eight should hold flags to left shoulder; seven to right of eight, should hold flags to right shoulder. When the wordNorthis recited, the seven to the right of number eight raise their flags, then back to the shoulder; when the wordSouthis recited, the seven to the left of number eight lift their flags, then replace to shoulders. Each might carry in other hand a bunch of flowers, and at the wordflowers, the bouquets should be raised as were the flags. The pupils to the left could wear gray and those to the right, blue, in some way—in caps, sashes or bows. Number eight should be dressed in red, white and blue.)
(For fifteen pupils each carrying a flag, and gesturing as indicated. Pupil 8 should carry a larger flag than the others. Seven to the left of eight should hold flags to left shoulder; seven to right of eight, should hold flags to right shoulder. When the wordNorthis recited, the seven to the right of number eight raise their flags, then back to the shoulder; when the wordSouthis recited, the seven to the left of number eight lift their flags, then replace to shoulders. Each might carry in other hand a bunch of flowers, and at the wordflowers, the bouquets should be raised as were the flags. The pupils to the left could wear gray and those to the right, blue, in some way—in caps, sashes or bows. Number eight should be dressed in red, white and blue.)
1st Pupil.There is peace, there is peace in the South and the North,When the suns of the May-time shall call the blooms forth.2nd Pupil.There is peace in the vale where the Tennessee runs—Where the river grass covers the long silent guns.3rd Pupil.There is peace in Virginia amid the tall corn;Where Lookout’s high summit grows bright in the morn.4th Pupil.There is peace where the James wanders down to the main;Where the war-torn Savannas are golden with grain.5th Pupil.There is peace where the squadrons of carnage have wheeled,Fierce over Shiloh’s shell-furrowed field.6th Pupil.There is peace in the soil whence the palmettoes spring;In the sad Shenandoah the harvesters sing.7th Pupil.There is peace in Manassas, Antietam’s dark rills;No more throb the drum on the bare Georgian hills.8th Pupil.There is peace where the warriors of Gettysburg rest;On the ramparts of Sumter the summer bird’s nest.9th Pupil.There is peace where the “Father of Waters” ran red,Where the batteries of Mobile lie soundless and dead.10th Pupil.There is peace where the rifle hangs mantled with dust,Where the once reeking saber is sheathed in its rust.11th Pupil.There is peace where the war-hoofs tore up the smooth lea,Where the hoarse-noted cannon rang over the sea.12th Pupil.There is peace in the North, though her soldier is yetFar away on the field where the fierce columns met.13th Pupil.There is peace in the South, though her soldier is lostIn the path where the lines of the foeman have crossed.14th Pupil.There is peace in the land, and the “stars and the bars”Forever have merged in the “stripes and the stars.”15th Pupil.There is peace where the flowers cover the tombs,And the Blue and the Gray now blend with the blooms.All.God grant that this peace may forever be ours!And the Blue and the Gray alike sleep neath the flowers!
1st Pupil.There is peace, there is peace in the South and the North,When the suns of the May-time shall call the blooms forth.2nd Pupil.There is peace in the vale where the Tennessee runs—Where the river grass covers the long silent guns.3rd Pupil.There is peace in Virginia amid the tall corn;Where Lookout’s high summit grows bright in the morn.4th Pupil.There is peace where the James wanders down to the main;Where the war-torn Savannas are golden with grain.5th Pupil.There is peace where the squadrons of carnage have wheeled,Fierce over Shiloh’s shell-furrowed field.6th Pupil.There is peace in the soil whence the palmettoes spring;In the sad Shenandoah the harvesters sing.7th Pupil.There is peace in Manassas, Antietam’s dark rills;No more throb the drum on the bare Georgian hills.8th Pupil.There is peace where the warriors of Gettysburg rest;On the ramparts of Sumter the summer bird’s nest.9th Pupil.There is peace where the “Father of Waters” ran red,Where the batteries of Mobile lie soundless and dead.10th Pupil.There is peace where the rifle hangs mantled with dust,Where the once reeking saber is sheathed in its rust.11th Pupil.There is peace where the war-hoofs tore up the smooth lea,Where the hoarse-noted cannon rang over the sea.12th Pupil.There is peace in the North, though her soldier is yetFar away on the field where the fierce columns met.13th Pupil.There is peace in the South, though her soldier is lostIn the path where the lines of the foeman have crossed.14th Pupil.There is peace in the land, and the “stars and the bars”Forever have merged in the “stripes and the stars.”15th Pupil.There is peace where the flowers cover the tombs,And the Blue and the Gray now blend with the blooms.All.God grant that this peace may forever be ours!And the Blue and the Gray alike sleep neath the flowers!
1st Pupil.
1st Pupil.
There is peace, there is peace in the South and the North,When the suns of the May-time shall call the blooms forth.
There is peace, there is peace in the South and the North,
When the suns of the May-time shall call the blooms forth.
2nd Pupil.
2nd Pupil.
There is peace in the vale where the Tennessee runs—Where the river grass covers the long silent guns.
There is peace in the vale where the Tennessee runs—
Where the river grass covers the long silent guns.
3rd Pupil.
3rd Pupil.
There is peace in Virginia amid the tall corn;Where Lookout’s high summit grows bright in the morn.
There is peace in Virginia amid the tall corn;
Where Lookout’s high summit grows bright in the morn.
4th Pupil.
4th Pupil.
There is peace where the James wanders down to the main;Where the war-torn Savannas are golden with grain.
There is peace where the James wanders down to the main;
Where the war-torn Savannas are golden with grain.
5th Pupil.
5th Pupil.
There is peace where the squadrons of carnage have wheeled,Fierce over Shiloh’s shell-furrowed field.
There is peace where the squadrons of carnage have wheeled,
Fierce over Shiloh’s shell-furrowed field.
6th Pupil.
6th Pupil.
There is peace in the soil whence the palmettoes spring;In the sad Shenandoah the harvesters sing.
There is peace in the soil whence the palmettoes spring;
In the sad Shenandoah the harvesters sing.
7th Pupil.
7th Pupil.
There is peace in Manassas, Antietam’s dark rills;No more throb the drum on the bare Georgian hills.
There is peace in Manassas, Antietam’s dark rills;
No more throb the drum on the bare Georgian hills.
8th Pupil.
8th Pupil.
There is peace where the warriors of Gettysburg rest;On the ramparts of Sumter the summer bird’s nest.
There is peace where the warriors of Gettysburg rest;
On the ramparts of Sumter the summer bird’s nest.
9th Pupil.
9th Pupil.
There is peace where the “Father of Waters” ran red,Where the batteries of Mobile lie soundless and dead.
There is peace where the “Father of Waters” ran red,
Where the batteries of Mobile lie soundless and dead.
10th Pupil.
10th Pupil.
There is peace where the rifle hangs mantled with dust,Where the once reeking saber is sheathed in its rust.
There is peace where the rifle hangs mantled with dust,
Where the once reeking saber is sheathed in its rust.
11th Pupil.
11th Pupil.
There is peace where the war-hoofs tore up the smooth lea,Where the hoarse-noted cannon rang over the sea.
There is peace where the war-hoofs tore up the smooth lea,
Where the hoarse-noted cannon rang over the sea.
12th Pupil.
12th Pupil.
There is peace in the North, though her soldier is yetFar away on the field where the fierce columns met.
There is peace in the North, though her soldier is yet
Far away on the field where the fierce columns met.
13th Pupil.
13th Pupil.
There is peace in the South, though her soldier is lostIn the path where the lines of the foeman have crossed.
There is peace in the South, though her soldier is lost
In the path where the lines of the foeman have crossed.
14th Pupil.
14th Pupil.
There is peace in the land, and the “stars and the bars”Forever have merged in the “stripes and the stars.”
There is peace in the land, and the “stars and the bars”
Forever have merged in the “stripes and the stars.”
15th Pupil.
15th Pupil.
There is peace where the flowers cover the tombs,And the Blue and the Gray now blend with the blooms.
There is peace where the flowers cover the tombs,
And the Blue and the Gray now blend with the blooms.
All.
All.
God grant that this peace may forever be ours!And the Blue and the Gray alike sleep neath the flowers!
God grant that this peace may forever be ours!
And the Blue and the Gray alike sleep neath the flowers!
(These last two lines should be recited while flags and flowers are held in front, in prayerful attitude, eyes of pupils glancing upward.)
(These last two lines should be recited while flags and flowers are held in front, in prayerful attitude, eyes of pupils glancing upward.)
It’s lonesome—sorto’ lonesome—it’s a Sund’y day to me,It ’pears like—mor’n any day I nearly ever see!Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,On ev’ry soldier’s grave I’d love to lay a lily there.They say, though, Decoration Days is generally observed—Most ev’ry wheres—especially by soldier boys that served—But me and mother never went—we seldom git away—In pint of fact, we’re allus home on Decoration Day.They say the old boys marches through the streets in columns grand,A-follerin’ the old war tunes they’re playin’ on the band,And citizens all jinin’ in—and little children, too—All marchin’ under shelter of the old Red, White and Blue,With roses! roses! roses!—ev’rybody in the town!And crowds of girls in white, just fairly loaded down!Oh! don’t the boys know it, from their camp across the hill?Don’t they see their comrades comin’ and the old flag wavin’ still?Oh! can’t they hear the bugle and the rattle of the drum?—Ain’t they no way under heaven they can rickollect us some?Ain’t they no way we can coax ’em through the roses, just to sayThey know that every day on earth is their Decoration Day?We’ve tried that,—me and mother,—where Elias takes his rest,In the orchard, in his uniform, and hands across his breast,And the flag he died fer smilin’ and a-ripplin’ in the breezeAbove his grave—and, over that—the robin in the trees.And yet it’s lonesome—lonesome! It’s a Sund’y-day to me,It ’pears like—more’n any day—I nearly ever see—Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,On ev’ry soldier’s grave—I’d love to lay a lily there.James Whitcomb Riley.
It’s lonesome—sorto’ lonesome—it’s a Sund’y day to me,It ’pears like—mor’n any day I nearly ever see!Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,On ev’ry soldier’s grave I’d love to lay a lily there.They say, though, Decoration Days is generally observed—Most ev’ry wheres—especially by soldier boys that served—But me and mother never went—we seldom git away—In pint of fact, we’re allus home on Decoration Day.They say the old boys marches through the streets in columns grand,A-follerin’ the old war tunes they’re playin’ on the band,And citizens all jinin’ in—and little children, too—All marchin’ under shelter of the old Red, White and Blue,With roses! roses! roses!—ev’rybody in the town!And crowds of girls in white, just fairly loaded down!Oh! don’t the boys know it, from their camp across the hill?Don’t they see their comrades comin’ and the old flag wavin’ still?Oh! can’t they hear the bugle and the rattle of the drum?—Ain’t they no way under heaven they can rickollect us some?Ain’t they no way we can coax ’em through the roses, just to sayThey know that every day on earth is their Decoration Day?We’ve tried that,—me and mother,—where Elias takes his rest,In the orchard, in his uniform, and hands across his breast,And the flag he died fer smilin’ and a-ripplin’ in the breezeAbove his grave—and, over that—the robin in the trees.And yet it’s lonesome—lonesome! It’s a Sund’y-day to me,It ’pears like—more’n any day—I nearly ever see—Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,On ev’ry soldier’s grave—I’d love to lay a lily there.James Whitcomb Riley.
It’s lonesome—sorto’ lonesome—it’s a Sund’y day to me,It ’pears like—mor’n any day I nearly ever see!Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,On ev’ry soldier’s grave I’d love to lay a lily there.
It’s lonesome—sorto’ lonesome—it’s a Sund’y day to me,
It ’pears like—mor’n any day I nearly ever see!
Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,
On ev’ry soldier’s grave I’d love to lay a lily there.
They say, though, Decoration Days is generally observed—Most ev’ry wheres—especially by soldier boys that served—But me and mother never went—we seldom git away—In pint of fact, we’re allus home on Decoration Day.
They say, though, Decoration Days is generally observed—
Most ev’ry wheres—especially by soldier boys that served—
But me and mother never went—we seldom git away—
In pint of fact, we’re allus home on Decoration Day.
They say the old boys marches through the streets in columns grand,A-follerin’ the old war tunes they’re playin’ on the band,And citizens all jinin’ in—and little children, too—All marchin’ under shelter of the old Red, White and Blue,
They say the old boys marches through the streets in columns grand,
A-follerin’ the old war tunes they’re playin’ on the band,
And citizens all jinin’ in—and little children, too—
All marchin’ under shelter of the old Red, White and Blue,
With roses! roses! roses!—ev’rybody in the town!And crowds of girls in white, just fairly loaded down!Oh! don’t the boys know it, from their camp across the hill?Don’t they see their comrades comin’ and the old flag wavin’ still?
With roses! roses! roses!—ev’rybody in the town!
And crowds of girls in white, just fairly loaded down!
Oh! don’t the boys know it, from their camp across the hill?
Don’t they see their comrades comin’ and the old flag wavin’ still?
Oh! can’t they hear the bugle and the rattle of the drum?—Ain’t they no way under heaven they can rickollect us some?Ain’t they no way we can coax ’em through the roses, just to sayThey know that every day on earth is their Decoration Day?
Oh! can’t they hear the bugle and the rattle of the drum?—
Ain’t they no way under heaven they can rickollect us some?
Ain’t they no way we can coax ’em through the roses, just to say
They know that every day on earth is their Decoration Day?
We’ve tried that,—me and mother,—where Elias takes his rest,In the orchard, in his uniform, and hands across his breast,And the flag he died fer smilin’ and a-ripplin’ in the breezeAbove his grave—and, over that—the robin in the trees.
We’ve tried that,—me and mother,—where Elias takes his rest,
In the orchard, in his uniform, and hands across his breast,
And the flag he died fer smilin’ and a-ripplin’ in the breeze
Above his grave—and, over that—the robin in the trees.
And yet it’s lonesome—lonesome! It’s a Sund’y-day to me,It ’pears like—more’n any day—I nearly ever see—Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,On ev’ry soldier’s grave—I’d love to lay a lily there.
And yet it’s lonesome—lonesome! It’s a Sund’y-day to me,
It ’pears like—more’n any day—I nearly ever see—
Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a flutterin’ in the air,
On ev’ry soldier’s grave—I’d love to lay a lily there.
James Whitcomb Riley.
James Whitcomb Riley.
(Exercise for eleven children. Each carries standard on which the letters are pasted in red, white and blue, and turns the letter toward the audience as the words are recited.)
(Exercise for eleven children. Each carries standard on which the letters are pasted in red, white and blue, and turns the letter toward the audience as the words are recited.)
Memorial Day again has come,When throbs the music of the drum.Each muffled accent seems to tellOf heroes who in battle fell.Memories return to boys in blue,Of vanished comrades brave and true.On camping ground and battle plainAlike they met with want and pain.Rivers of blood their courses swept,While sad Columbia mourned and wept.In fever swamp and prison penDied many of her bravest men.All honor to the soldier bandsWho followed Freedom’s stern commands.Let each true soldier’s noble name,Glow brightly on the books of Fame.Deeds wrought for truth can never dieFor they are penned in books on high.A nation now in reverence standsWith sorrowing heart and flower-filled hands.Years may into long ages glide,These names shall still be glorified.
Memorial Day again has come,When throbs the music of the drum.Each muffled accent seems to tellOf heroes who in battle fell.Memories return to boys in blue,Of vanished comrades brave and true.On camping ground and battle plainAlike they met with want and pain.Rivers of blood their courses swept,While sad Columbia mourned and wept.In fever swamp and prison penDied many of her bravest men.All honor to the soldier bandsWho followed Freedom’s stern commands.Let each true soldier’s noble name,Glow brightly on the books of Fame.Deeds wrought for truth can never dieFor they are penned in books on high.A nation now in reverence standsWith sorrowing heart and flower-filled hands.Years may into long ages glide,These names shall still be glorified.
Memorial Day again has come,When throbs the music of the drum.
Memorial Day again has come,
When throbs the music of the drum.
Each muffled accent seems to tellOf heroes who in battle fell.
Each muffled accent seems to tell
Of heroes who in battle fell.
Memories return to boys in blue,Of vanished comrades brave and true.
Memories return to boys in blue,
Of vanished comrades brave and true.
On camping ground and battle plainAlike they met with want and pain.
On camping ground and battle plain
Alike they met with want and pain.
Rivers of blood their courses swept,While sad Columbia mourned and wept.
Rivers of blood their courses swept,
While sad Columbia mourned and wept.
In fever swamp and prison penDied many of her bravest men.
In fever swamp and prison pen
Died many of her bravest men.
All honor to the soldier bandsWho followed Freedom’s stern commands.
All honor to the soldier bands
Who followed Freedom’s stern commands.
Let each true soldier’s noble name,Glow brightly on the books of Fame.
Let each true soldier’s noble name,
Glow brightly on the books of Fame.
Deeds wrought for truth can never dieFor they are penned in books on high.
Deeds wrought for truth can never die
For they are penned in books on high.
A nation now in reverence standsWith sorrowing heart and flower-filled hands.
A nation now in reverence stands
With sorrowing heart and flower-filled hands.
Years may into long ages glide,These names shall still be glorified.
Years may into long ages glide,
These names shall still be glorified.
General John Murray was the originator of Memorial Day in the North. While visiting in the South in the winter of 1867-’68, he noticed the touching rite of decorating soldiers’ graves with flowers by the ladies. Being very much impressed with this custom, he instituted a similar one at his own home.
On the 5th day of May, 1868, Gen. John A. Logan, who was then Commander-in-chief of the Grand Army of the Republic, established Decoration Day, and by a general order, May 30, 1868, was designated as a day set apart for the purpose of paying tribute to the memory of those brave men who died in defense of our country. The national encampment held in Washington had it incorporated in its rules and regulations, May 11, 1870. Since then, in many of the States, May 30th has been established as a holiday, and it is the universal custom to decorate the graves of all ex-soldiers, thus making it one of the most patriotic days of the year, wherein all classes unite in paying honor to our heroic dead, and feel a conscious pride in being able to thus show respect for their memory and the cause for which they fought.
(A large urn or vase is placed on a stand decorated with the national colors and a bow of black ribbon. Around the rim of the vase a beautiful wreath should be placed. The stand should be at the front of the rostrum, so the pupils may pass behind it. The pupils representing the various wars should be dressed if possible in the costumes of that day—military costumes. Beside the urn, a girl representing Liberty should stand holding a large flag at half-mast, she should dress in white and wear sash of the national colors. After reciting, each pupil stands in rear of Liberty. When coming upon the stage, each pupil salutes the flag before reciting and stands on opposite side of urn while reciting. When through, he gracefully deposits his bouquet into the urn. At close of exercise the school arises and salutes the flag and repeats the pledge.)Liberty(Enters carrying flag and recites standing at right of urn; when through reciting casts her flowers into the urn.)
(A large urn or vase is placed on a stand decorated with the national colors and a bow of black ribbon. Around the rim of the vase a beautiful wreath should be placed. The stand should be at the front of the rostrum, so the pupils may pass behind it. The pupils representing the various wars should be dressed if possible in the costumes of that day—military costumes. Beside the urn, a girl representing Liberty should stand holding a large flag at half-mast, she should dress in white and wear sash of the national colors. After reciting, each pupil stands in rear of Liberty. When coming upon the stage, each pupil salutes the flag before reciting and stands on opposite side of urn while reciting. When through, he gracefully deposits his bouquet into the urn. At close of exercise the school arises and salutes the flag and repeats the pledge.)
Liberty(Enters carrying flag and recites standing at right of urn; when through reciting casts her flowers into the urn.)
“Strew with flowers the soldier’s grave,Plant each lovely thing that grows;Let the summer breezes waveThe calla lily and the rose;White and red—the cause, the price!Right, upheld by sacrifice.Let the summer’s perfumed breath,Fragrant with the sweetest flowers,Charm the sadness out of death,Glorify the mourners’ hours,Freighted with their prayers, ariseIncense of their sacrifice.’Tis not valor that we praise,Thirst for glory, love of strife;Gentle hearts from quiet ways,Turned to save a nation’s life,Lest in jealous fragments tornFreedom’s land should come to scorn.O’er the Gray, as o’er the Blue,Nature’s bursting tears will flow;Both were brave, and both were trueAnd fought for all they loved below.Pity! nor forbid the tearShed above so sad a bier.Cherish, then, the patriot fires,Honor loyalty, and trustIn God that Freedom ne’er expiresWhere virtue guards the martyr’s dust,Who counted life as little worth,And saved the imperiled Hope of Earth.”Jno. W. Dunbar.
“Strew with flowers the soldier’s grave,Plant each lovely thing that grows;Let the summer breezes waveThe calla lily and the rose;White and red—the cause, the price!Right, upheld by sacrifice.Let the summer’s perfumed breath,Fragrant with the sweetest flowers,Charm the sadness out of death,Glorify the mourners’ hours,Freighted with their prayers, ariseIncense of their sacrifice.’Tis not valor that we praise,Thirst for glory, love of strife;Gentle hearts from quiet ways,Turned to save a nation’s life,Lest in jealous fragments tornFreedom’s land should come to scorn.O’er the Gray, as o’er the Blue,Nature’s bursting tears will flow;Both were brave, and both were trueAnd fought for all they loved below.Pity! nor forbid the tearShed above so sad a bier.Cherish, then, the patriot fires,Honor loyalty, and trustIn God that Freedom ne’er expiresWhere virtue guards the martyr’s dust,Who counted life as little worth,And saved the imperiled Hope of Earth.”Jno. W. Dunbar.
“Strew with flowers the soldier’s grave,Plant each lovely thing that grows;Let the summer breezes waveThe calla lily and the rose;White and red—the cause, the price!Right, upheld by sacrifice.
“Strew with flowers the soldier’s grave,
Plant each lovely thing that grows;
Let the summer breezes wave
The calla lily and the rose;
White and red—the cause, the price!
Right, upheld by sacrifice.
Let the summer’s perfumed breath,Fragrant with the sweetest flowers,Charm the sadness out of death,Glorify the mourners’ hours,Freighted with their prayers, ariseIncense of their sacrifice.
Let the summer’s perfumed breath,
Fragrant with the sweetest flowers,
Charm the sadness out of death,
Glorify the mourners’ hours,
Freighted with their prayers, arise
Incense of their sacrifice.
’Tis not valor that we praise,Thirst for glory, love of strife;Gentle hearts from quiet ways,Turned to save a nation’s life,Lest in jealous fragments tornFreedom’s land should come to scorn.
’Tis not valor that we praise,
Thirst for glory, love of strife;
Gentle hearts from quiet ways,
Turned to save a nation’s life,
Lest in jealous fragments torn
Freedom’s land should come to scorn.
O’er the Gray, as o’er the Blue,Nature’s bursting tears will flow;Both were brave, and both were trueAnd fought for all they loved below.Pity! nor forbid the tearShed above so sad a bier.
O’er the Gray, as o’er the Blue,
Nature’s bursting tears will flow;
Both were brave, and both were true
And fought for all they loved below.
Pity! nor forbid the tear
Shed above so sad a bier.
Cherish, then, the patriot fires,Honor loyalty, and trustIn God that Freedom ne’er expiresWhere virtue guards the martyr’s dust,Who counted life as little worth,And saved the imperiled Hope of Earth.”
Cherish, then, the patriot fires,
Honor loyalty, and trust
In God that Freedom ne’er expires
Where virtue guards the martyr’s dust,
Who counted life as little worth,
And saved the imperiled Hope of Earth.”
Jno. W. Dunbar.
Jno. W. Dunbar.
Revolutionary Pupil.I had heard the muskets’ rattle of the April running battle;Lord Percey’s hunted soldiers, I can see their red coats still;But a deadly chill comes o’er me, as the day looms up before me,When a thousand men lay bleeding on the slopes of Bunker Hill.Here are lilies for the valorous, and roses for the brave;And laurel for the victor’s crown, and rue for lowly grave.There’s crimson for the blood that flowed that Freedom might be free,And golden for the hearts of gold that died for you and me;Till love no more is loving, we lift our souls and say,For liberty find loyalty we bless their names to-day!Civil War Pupil.Strew the fair garlands where slumber the dead,Ring out the strains like the swell of the sea,Heartfelt the tribute we lay on each bed.Sound o’er the brave the refrain of the free.Sound the refrain of the loyal and free,Visit each sleeper and hallow each bed,Wave the starred banner from seacoast to seaGrateful the living, and honored the dead.Cuban War Pupil (carrying Cuban Flag.)New graves we crown with flowers to-dayNew homes shall saddened be;For loved ones sleeping far away,And some beneath the sea.’Twas for humanity and rightOur loved boys fought and died;To lift the islands into lightAnd break the Spanish pride.We’ll wrap the Bible in the FlagAnd back them with our might,And bear them over sea and crag,In lofty eagle’s flight;And break the bands of heathen night,And set the islands free;Till Freedom sheds her glorious lightO’er every land and sea.Liberty (in prayerful attitude, the boysstanding in rear with hats lifted.)O God! look down upon the land which Thou hast loved so well,And grant that in unbroken truth her children still may dwell;Nor while the grass grows on the hill, and streams flow through the vale,May they forget their fathers’ faith, or in their covenant fail!God keep the fairest, noblest land that lies beneath the sky—Our country, our whole country, whose fame shall never die.
Revolutionary Pupil.I had heard the muskets’ rattle of the April running battle;Lord Percey’s hunted soldiers, I can see their red coats still;But a deadly chill comes o’er me, as the day looms up before me,When a thousand men lay bleeding on the slopes of Bunker Hill.Here are lilies for the valorous, and roses for the brave;And laurel for the victor’s crown, and rue for lowly grave.There’s crimson for the blood that flowed that Freedom might be free,And golden for the hearts of gold that died for you and me;Till love no more is loving, we lift our souls and say,For liberty find loyalty we bless their names to-day!Civil War Pupil.Strew the fair garlands where slumber the dead,Ring out the strains like the swell of the sea,Heartfelt the tribute we lay on each bed.Sound o’er the brave the refrain of the free.Sound the refrain of the loyal and free,Visit each sleeper and hallow each bed,Wave the starred banner from seacoast to seaGrateful the living, and honored the dead.Cuban War Pupil (carrying Cuban Flag.)New graves we crown with flowers to-dayNew homes shall saddened be;For loved ones sleeping far away,And some beneath the sea.’Twas for humanity and rightOur loved boys fought and died;To lift the islands into lightAnd break the Spanish pride.We’ll wrap the Bible in the FlagAnd back them with our might,And bear them over sea and crag,In lofty eagle’s flight;And break the bands of heathen night,And set the islands free;Till Freedom sheds her glorious lightO’er every land and sea.Liberty (in prayerful attitude, the boysstanding in rear with hats lifted.)O God! look down upon the land which Thou hast loved so well,And grant that in unbroken truth her children still may dwell;Nor while the grass grows on the hill, and streams flow through the vale,May they forget their fathers’ faith, or in their covenant fail!God keep the fairest, noblest land that lies beneath the sky—Our country, our whole country, whose fame shall never die.
Revolutionary Pupil.
Revolutionary Pupil.
I had heard the muskets’ rattle of the April running battle;Lord Percey’s hunted soldiers, I can see their red coats still;But a deadly chill comes o’er me, as the day looms up before me,When a thousand men lay bleeding on the slopes of Bunker Hill.Here are lilies for the valorous, and roses for the brave;And laurel for the victor’s crown, and rue for lowly grave.There’s crimson for the blood that flowed that Freedom might be free,And golden for the hearts of gold that died for you and me;Till love no more is loving, we lift our souls and say,For liberty find loyalty we bless their names to-day!
I had heard the muskets’ rattle of the April running battle;
Lord Percey’s hunted soldiers, I can see their red coats still;
But a deadly chill comes o’er me, as the day looms up before me,
When a thousand men lay bleeding on the slopes of Bunker Hill.
Here are lilies for the valorous, and roses for the brave;
And laurel for the victor’s crown, and rue for lowly grave.
There’s crimson for the blood that flowed that Freedom might be free,
And golden for the hearts of gold that died for you and me;
Till love no more is loving, we lift our souls and say,
For liberty find loyalty we bless their names to-day!
Civil War Pupil.
Civil War Pupil.
Strew the fair garlands where slumber the dead,Ring out the strains like the swell of the sea,Heartfelt the tribute we lay on each bed.Sound o’er the brave the refrain of the free.
Strew the fair garlands where slumber the dead,
Ring out the strains like the swell of the sea,
Heartfelt the tribute we lay on each bed.
Sound o’er the brave the refrain of the free.
Sound the refrain of the loyal and free,Visit each sleeper and hallow each bed,Wave the starred banner from seacoast to seaGrateful the living, and honored the dead.
Sound the refrain of the loyal and free,
Visit each sleeper and hallow each bed,
Wave the starred banner from seacoast to sea
Grateful the living, and honored the dead.
Cuban War Pupil (carrying Cuban Flag.)
Cuban War Pupil (carrying Cuban Flag.)
New graves we crown with flowers to-dayNew homes shall saddened be;For loved ones sleeping far away,And some beneath the sea.
New graves we crown with flowers to-day
New homes shall saddened be;
For loved ones sleeping far away,
And some beneath the sea.
’Twas for humanity and rightOur loved boys fought and died;To lift the islands into lightAnd break the Spanish pride.
’Twas for humanity and right
Our loved boys fought and died;
To lift the islands into light
And break the Spanish pride.
We’ll wrap the Bible in the FlagAnd back them with our might,And bear them over sea and crag,In lofty eagle’s flight;
We’ll wrap the Bible in the Flag
And back them with our might,
And bear them over sea and crag,
In lofty eagle’s flight;
And break the bands of heathen night,And set the islands free;Till Freedom sheds her glorious lightO’er every land and sea.
And break the bands of heathen night,
And set the islands free;
Till Freedom sheds her glorious light
O’er every land and sea.
Liberty (in prayerful attitude, the boysstanding in rear with hats lifted.)
Liberty (in prayerful attitude, the boysstanding in rear with hats lifted.)
O God! look down upon the land which Thou hast loved so well,And grant that in unbroken truth her children still may dwell;Nor while the grass grows on the hill, and streams flow through the vale,May they forget their fathers’ faith, or in their covenant fail!God keep the fairest, noblest land that lies beneath the sky—Our country, our whole country, whose fame shall never die.
O God! look down upon the land which Thou hast loved so well,
And grant that in unbroken truth her children still may dwell;
Nor while the grass grows on the hill, and streams flow through the vale,
May they forget their fathers’ faith, or in their covenant fail!
God keep the fairest, noblest land that lies beneath the sky—
Our country, our whole country, whose fame shall never die.
(All stand; salute flag; and repeat pledge.)
“We pledge allegiance to our flag and the republic for which it stands—one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”
To be given by ten little girls with evergreen or large printed letters hung around their necks by a black thread and adjusted to the proper height. Let the letter be turned as the child speaks.
To be given by ten little girls with evergreen or large printed letters hung around their necks by a black thread and adjusted to the proper height. Let the letter be turned as the child speaks.
First Child—W—In the wailing winds my firstSpeaks in faintly murmuring tones.Second Child—A—While my second’s cry will burstIn the martyr’s latest groans.—Third Child—S—How the noisome serpents scare.In them finds my third a place.Fourth Child—H—In the homes which mothers share,Rules my fourth with gentle grace.Fifth Child—I—Watch the Indian’s scalping knife,And my fifth shall greet your sight.Sixth Child—N—But my sixth is brought to lifeIn the moonless ebon night.Seventh Child—G—See the gambler’s greed and noteHow my seventh rules supreme.Eighth Child—T—The latest presidential voteHolds secure my eighth, I deem.Ninth Child—O—From our sorrow, from our woe,None can drive my ninth away.Tenth Child—N—Mark the wailing infant—lo!There my tenth holds fullest sway.All in Concert.Join from first to tenth each part,And you’ll find a noble name,Written on each patriot’s heart,Glorious in our country’s fame.
First Child—W—In the wailing winds my firstSpeaks in faintly murmuring tones.Second Child—A—While my second’s cry will burstIn the martyr’s latest groans.—Third Child—S—How the noisome serpents scare.In them finds my third a place.Fourth Child—H—In the homes which mothers share,Rules my fourth with gentle grace.Fifth Child—I—Watch the Indian’s scalping knife,And my fifth shall greet your sight.Sixth Child—N—But my sixth is brought to lifeIn the moonless ebon night.Seventh Child—G—See the gambler’s greed and noteHow my seventh rules supreme.Eighth Child—T—The latest presidential voteHolds secure my eighth, I deem.Ninth Child—O—From our sorrow, from our woe,None can drive my ninth away.Tenth Child—N—Mark the wailing infant—lo!There my tenth holds fullest sway.All in Concert.Join from first to tenth each part,And you’ll find a noble name,Written on each patriot’s heart,Glorious in our country’s fame.
First Child—W—
First Child—W—
In the wailing winds my firstSpeaks in faintly murmuring tones.
In the wailing winds my first
Speaks in faintly murmuring tones.
Second Child—A—
Second Child—A—
While my second’s cry will burstIn the martyr’s latest groans.—
While my second’s cry will burst
In the martyr’s latest groans.—
Third Child—S—
Third Child—S—
How the noisome serpents scare.In them finds my third a place.
How the noisome serpents scare.
In them finds my third a place.
Fourth Child—H—
Fourth Child—H—
In the homes which mothers share,Rules my fourth with gentle grace.
In the homes which mothers share,
Rules my fourth with gentle grace.
Fifth Child—I—
Fifth Child—I—
Watch the Indian’s scalping knife,And my fifth shall greet your sight.
Watch the Indian’s scalping knife,
And my fifth shall greet your sight.
Sixth Child—N—
Sixth Child—N—
But my sixth is brought to lifeIn the moonless ebon night.
But my sixth is brought to life
In the moonless ebon night.
Seventh Child—G—
Seventh Child—G—
See the gambler’s greed and noteHow my seventh rules supreme.
See the gambler’s greed and note
How my seventh rules supreme.
Eighth Child—T—
Eighth Child—T—
The latest presidential voteHolds secure my eighth, I deem.
The latest presidential vote
Holds secure my eighth, I deem.
Ninth Child—O—
Ninth Child—O—
From our sorrow, from our woe,None can drive my ninth away.
From our sorrow, from our woe,
None can drive my ninth away.
Tenth Child—N—
Tenth Child—N—
Mark the wailing infant—lo!There my tenth holds fullest sway.
Mark the wailing infant—lo!
There my tenth holds fullest sway.
All in Concert.
All in Concert.
Join from first to tenth each part,And you’ll find a noble name,Written on each patriot’s heart,Glorious in our country’s fame.
Join from first to tenth each part,
And you’ll find a noble name,
Written on each patriot’s heart,
Glorious in our country’s fame.
For a little boy.
Oh! how the world remembers!It is many and many a daySince the patriot, George Washington,Grew old and passed away.And yet to-day we are keepingIn memory of his birth,And his deeds of truth and valorAre told at every hearth.How he fought for independenceAll little schoolboys know;And why he signed the declarationSo many years ago.To be as great as WashingtonI could not if I would;But I’ve made up my mind that IWill try to be as good.
Oh! how the world remembers!It is many and many a daySince the patriot, George Washington,Grew old and passed away.And yet to-day we are keepingIn memory of his birth,And his deeds of truth and valorAre told at every hearth.How he fought for independenceAll little schoolboys know;And why he signed the declarationSo many years ago.To be as great as WashingtonI could not if I would;But I’ve made up my mind that IWill try to be as good.
Oh! how the world remembers!It is many and many a daySince the patriot, George Washington,Grew old and passed away.
Oh! how the world remembers!
It is many and many a day
Since the patriot, George Washington,
Grew old and passed away.
And yet to-day we are keepingIn memory of his birth,And his deeds of truth and valorAre told at every hearth.
And yet to-day we are keeping
In memory of his birth,
And his deeds of truth and valor
Are told at every hearth.
How he fought for independenceAll little schoolboys know;And why he signed the declarationSo many years ago.
How he fought for independence
All little schoolboys know;
And why he signed the declaration
So many years ago.
To be as great as WashingtonI could not if I would;But I’ve made up my mind that IWill try to be as good.
To be as great as Washington
I could not if I would;
But I’ve made up my mind that I
Will try to be as good.
When the great and good George WashingtonWas a little boy like me,He took his little hatchetAnd chopped down a cherry tree.And when his papa called him,He then began to cry,“I did it, oh, I did it;I cannot tell a lie!”His papa didn’t scold at all,But said, “You noble youth,I’d gladly lose ten cherry treesTo have you tell the truth!”But I myself am not quite clear;For if I took my hatchetAnd chopped my papa’s cherry tree,Oh, wouldn’t I just catch it!
When the great and good George WashingtonWas a little boy like me,He took his little hatchetAnd chopped down a cherry tree.And when his papa called him,He then began to cry,“I did it, oh, I did it;I cannot tell a lie!”His papa didn’t scold at all,But said, “You noble youth,I’d gladly lose ten cherry treesTo have you tell the truth!”But I myself am not quite clear;For if I took my hatchetAnd chopped my papa’s cherry tree,Oh, wouldn’t I just catch it!
When the great and good George WashingtonWas a little boy like me,He took his little hatchetAnd chopped down a cherry tree.
When the great and good George Washington
Was a little boy like me,
He took his little hatchet
And chopped down a cherry tree.
And when his papa called him,He then began to cry,“I did it, oh, I did it;I cannot tell a lie!”
And when his papa called him,
He then began to cry,
“I did it, oh, I did it;
I cannot tell a lie!”
His papa didn’t scold at all,But said, “You noble youth,I’d gladly lose ten cherry treesTo have you tell the truth!”
His papa didn’t scold at all,
But said, “You noble youth,
I’d gladly lose ten cherry trees
To have you tell the truth!”
But I myself am not quite clear;For if I took my hatchetAnd chopped my papa’s cherry tree,Oh, wouldn’t I just catch it!
But I myself am not quite clear;
For if I took my hatchet
And chopped my papa’s cherry tree,
Oh, wouldn’t I just catch it!
Adopted by him at the age of fifteen.
“Neither laugh, nor speak, nor listen when older people are talking together.”
“Say not anything that will hurt another, either in fun or in earnest.”
“If you say anything funny, don’t laugh at it yourself, but let others enjoy it.”
“When another person speaks, listen yourself, and try not to disturb others.”
“Obey and honor your father and mother.”
“Every action in company ought to be with some sign of respect to those present.”
“When you meet with one of greater quality than yourself, stop and retire, especially if it be at a door or any strait place, to give way for him to pass.”
“Speak not evil of the absent, for it is unjust.”
“Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, though he were your enemy.”
“Be not curious to know the affairs of others; neither approach to those that speak in private.”
“Undertake not what you cannot perform, but be careful to keep your promises.”
“Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.”
Once more we celebrateBirthday of him so great,So true and brave;Who struggled not in vainLiberty to attain,Breaking a tyrant’s chainHis land to save.Bravely the patriot bandFought ’neath his sure commandAnd freedom won;Honor those soldiers all,Who did for freedom fall,Who followed at the callOf Washington.While shines in heaven the sun,The name of WashingtonShall glow with light;He feared no tyrant grand,But foremost in command,Did like a mountain standFor cause of right.Alice Jean Cleator.
Once more we celebrateBirthday of him so great,So true and brave;Who struggled not in vainLiberty to attain,Breaking a tyrant’s chainHis land to save.Bravely the patriot bandFought ’neath his sure commandAnd freedom won;Honor those soldiers all,Who did for freedom fall,Who followed at the callOf Washington.While shines in heaven the sun,The name of WashingtonShall glow with light;He feared no tyrant grand,But foremost in command,Did like a mountain standFor cause of right.Alice Jean Cleator.
Once more we celebrateBirthday of him so great,So true and brave;Who struggled not in vainLiberty to attain,Breaking a tyrant’s chainHis land to save.
Once more we celebrate
Birthday of him so great,
So true and brave;
Who struggled not in vain
Liberty to attain,
Breaking a tyrant’s chain
His land to save.
Bravely the patriot bandFought ’neath his sure commandAnd freedom won;Honor those soldiers all,Who did for freedom fall,Who followed at the callOf Washington.
Bravely the patriot band
Fought ’neath his sure command
And freedom won;
Honor those soldiers all,
Who did for freedom fall,
Who followed at the call
Of Washington.
While shines in heaven the sun,The name of WashingtonShall glow with light;He feared no tyrant grand,But foremost in command,Did like a mountain standFor cause of right.
While shines in heaven the sun,
The name of Washington
Shall glow with light;
He feared no tyrant grand,
But foremost in command,
Did like a mountain stand
For cause of right.
Alice Jean Cleator.
Alice Jean Cleator.
The birthday of the “Father of his Country!” May it ever be freshly remembered by American hearts! May it ever re-awaken in them a filial veneration for his memory; ever rekindle the fires of patriotic regard to the country he loved so well; to which he gave his youthful vigor and his youthful energy, during the perilous period of the early Indian warfare; to which he devoted his life, in the maturity of his powers, in the field; to which again he offered the counsels of his wisdom and his experience, as President of the Convention that framed our Constitution; which he guided and directed while in the Chair of State, and for which the last prayer of his earthly supplication was offered up, when it came the moment for him so well, and so grandly, and I so calmly, to die. He was the first man of the time in which he grew. His memory is I first and most sacred in our love; and ever hereafter, till the last drop of blood shall freeze in the last American heart, his name shall be a spell of power and might.
Yes, there is one personal, one vast felicity, which no man can share with him. It was the daily beauty and towering and matchless glory of his life, which enabled him to create his country, and, at the same time, secure an undying love and regard from the whole American people. “The first in the hearts of his countrymen!” Yes, first! He has our first and most fervent love. Undoubtedly there were brave and wise and good men,before his day, in every colony. But the American Nation, as a Nation, I do not reckon to have begun before 1774. And the first love of that young America was Washington. The first word she lisped was his name. Her earliest breath spoke it. It still is her proud ejaculation; and it will be the last gasp of her expiring life!
Yes, others of our great men have been appreciated—many admired by all. But him we love. Him we all love. About and around him we call up no dissentient and discordant and dissatisfied elements—no sectional prejudice nor bias,—no party, no creed, no dogma of politics. None of these shall assail him. Yes, when the storm of battle blows darkest and rages highest, the memory of Washington shall nerve every American arm, and cheer every American heart. It shall relume that Promethean fire, that sublime flame of patriotism, that devoted love of country, which his words have commended, which his example has consecrated. Well did Lord Byron write: