A HYMN, ON THE DEATH OF GEN. WASHINGTON Words: Robert Stevenson Coffin, in Oriental Harp: Poems of the Boston Bard (Providence, R.I.: Smith and Parmenter, 1826) Tune: NEW JORDAN, (Sacred Harp, p. 442) When freedom midst the battle storm Her weary hand reclined: And round her fair majestic form, Oppression fain had twined; Amidst the din--behind the cloud, Great Washington appeared; With daring hand, rolled back the shroud, And thus the sufferer cheered. Spurn, spurn despair!--Be great, be free! With giant strength arise; Stretch, stretch thy pinions, Liberty, Thy flag plant in the skies! Clothe, clothe thyself in glory's robe, Let stars they banners gem; Rule, rule the sea--possess the globe-- Wear victory's diadem. Go tell the world, a world is born, Another orb gives light; Another sun illumes the morn, Another star the night; Be just, be brave!--and let thy name Henceforth Columbia be; Wear, wear the oaken wreath of fame, The wreath of Liberty! He said, and lo! the stars of night Forth to her banner flew; And morn, with pencil dipt in light, Her blushes on it drew. Columbia's chieftain seized the prize, (All gloriously unfurled,) Flew with it to his native skies, And waved it o'er the world.