I see adown our Western vales your legions pour,

my boys,

From the Buckeye, Indiana, and my own loved Illinois;

And Iowa, and Michigan, and Minnesota too, And far Wisconsin's prairies send their heroes tried and true.

Come on, O living avalanche! break into floods of light,

And roll your waves of truth along Secession's shores of night,

Drown out rebellion, as of old, and then with Uncle Sam,

Safe in the Ark of State we'll praise the God of Abraham.

ILLINOIS' RESPONSE.

WE'RE coming, honored President,

We're coming at your call;

Our hearts are beating strong and high—
We're Illinoisians, all.

From Northern lake and Southern stream
And Mississippi's shore,

We're coming with our quota of

"Six hundred thousand more."

We're coming, and we know your cheek Will glow with honest pride,

When you see our spangled banner float
Our sister States beside.

At Henry and at Donelson,
And Shiloh's bloody field,

We've proved how brave a loyal sword
Our noble State can wield.

We're coming, for we trace the lines
Of care upon your brow,
And silver hairs are twining fast

Your "crown of glory" now.

We know that near your burdened heart Our bleeding country lies;

We come with freedom's stalwart arm,

To meet her enemies.

We leave behind us all our hearts
Have prized and loved below,
And mothers, wives, and sisters dear
Have bravely bid us go.

We're coming from the Southern shore

And from the Northern line,

And humbly ask thee not to bid
Us bow at Slavery's shrine.

We hear a voice whose thunder tones
Are echoing wide and far,
Above the tramp of marshalled hosts,
The din and strife of war
We hear it in the orphan's wail,
And in the widow's woe,

And from the great Shekinah's throne:
"Let ye the people go."

Oh! heed it, noble President,
And nations yet will bring,

And at your honored feet will lay

A richer offering

Than ever decked a conqueror's brow,
Or graced a monarch's throne-

A grateful country waits to greet
Her second Washington.

Rockford, Ill.

S. B. H.

THE PROCLAMATION.

(SEPTEMBER 22, 1862.)

NOW who has done the greatest deed

Which history has ever known,

And who, in Freedom's direst need,
Became her bravest champion ?
Who a whole continent set free?

Who killed the curse and broke the ban
Which made a lie of liberty?

You-Father Abraham-you're the man!

The deed is done. Millions have yearned
To see the spear of Freedom cast;
The dragon writhed, and roared, and burned-
You've smote him full and square at last.
O great and true! You do not know,

You cannot tell, you cannot feel

How far through time your name must go,
Honored by all men, high or low,

Wherever Freedom's votaries kneel.

This wide world talks in many a tongue-
This world boasts many a noble State;

In all your praises will be sung,

In all the great will call you great.

Freedom! Where'er that word is known
On silent shore, by sounding sea,

'Mid millions, or in deserts lone,

Your noble name shall ever be

The word is out-the deed is done!
Let no one carp, or dread delay;
When such a steed is fairly on,

Fate never fails to find a way.
Hurrah! hurrah! the track is clear,
We know your policy and plan;
We'll stand by you through every year—
Now, Father Abraham, you're our man

THE PRESIDENT'S PROCLAMATION.

JOHN

JOHN BROWN SONG.

BY EDNA DEAN PROCTOR.

OHN BROWN died on a scaffold for the slave;

Dark was the hour when we dug his hallowed

grave;