THE LONE SENTRY
by James Ryder Randall

'Twas in the dying of the day
The darkness grew so still,
The drowsy pipe of evening birds
Was hushed upon the hill;
Athwart the shadows of the vale
Slumbered the men of might,
And one lone sentry paced his rounds,
To watch the camp that night.

A grave and solemn man was he,
With deep and sombre brow,
The dreamful eyes seemed hoarding up
Some unaccomplished vow.
The wistful glance peered o'er the plains
Beneath the starry light,
And with the murmured name of God
He watched the camp that night.

The future opened unto him
Its grand and awful scroll --
Manassas and the Valley march
Came heaving o'er his soul;
Richmond and Sharpsburg thundered by,
With that tremendous fight
Which gave him to the angel hosts
Who watched the camp that night.

We mourn for him who died for us
With one resistless moan,
While in the Valley of the Lord
He marches to the throne.
He kept the faith of men and saints,
Sublime and pure and bright;
He sleeps -- and all is well with him
Who watched the camp that night.

Brothers! the midnight of the cause
Is shrouded in our fate,
The demon Goths pollute our halls
With fire and lust and hate.
Be strong, be valiant, be assured --
Strike home for Heaven and Right!
The soul of Jackson stalks abroad
And guards the camp to-night.

From:http://users.erols.com/kfraser/confederate/officers/jackson/sentry.html