The March
Colonel of the Regiment

Air-"Partant pour la Syrie."

We swear to stand around the flag,
In the battle's wildest storm!
Now lead us on against the foe!
Our hearts beat high and warm,
For the march, through death's red harvest field,
Around the banner of the brave,
To triumph, or the laurels win,
That bloom on the Patriot's grave.

Sweetly the faithful soldier sleeps,
Who fails in the cause of God,
So we'll tread the fiery road to death,
As over a flowery sod;
For ours is the holy cause of God,
In freedom's cause we fight,
March on! To the filed of glory! March!
And God defend the right.

Farewell, sweet home! We know thy joys-
Thy gentle joys no more;
Farewell, dear friends! Your kindly words
Must yield to the cannon's roar;
For the voice of God--our country's God-
Commands us, and we go
To tread beneath war's iron heel,
Our country's perjured foe.

Comrade! Lift that starry flag!
Oh God! It's holy light
Shall guide us through the battle waves,
Gleaming over the fight!
Oh, comrade! Fling its sacred folds,
Once more against the sky!
March on! It fires our souls! March on!
We'll conquer or we'll die.