Year: 1865

BY MRS f. G. D. POWELL.


Come to the ssSoldier's Aid -


Mother and wife and maid.
There's soldier away at the South
Whose lips have been pressed to your mouth.
With mutual kisses and mutual VOWS,
As father or son, as brother or spouse,
Who, lying in his blood and dirt,
Would weep for joy for a fresh clean shirt.
o say, shall that brave one fret and grieve
When here is one, only wanting sleeve


At the rooms Of the i'Soldier's Add
Come to the ssSoIdier's Aid


Mother and wife and maid.
On that soft pillow. mothers breast,
A little hand was accus toned TO rest;
That self same hand, once soft and white,
Is lying now IN dreadful plight;
Nothing is left but the palm and thumb,
Which by turns is burning, aching numb;
To add to his pain he has not sling,
But kerchief almost reduced. to a string,
While here is an easy one, partly ma0e,
AT the rooms Of the 'fSoldier's Aid


Come to the "soldier's Aid"


Mother and wife and maid.
There's a soldier learning to walk alOne,''
With crutcb in place Of a broken bone;
Can gentle compassion and sympathy bear
To hear this sad truth-the other is barrel
Wanting slipper, aye, even sock,
When here IN the room is plenty Of stock,
Waiting for fingers to mend or to make.
come, for that suffering soldiers sake,
To the rooms Of the ''Soldier's Aid -


Come to the sisoldier's Ada


Mother and wife and maid.
On the same pillow at night with thine
\ noble head has been wont to recline,
And dreams Of beauty oft visited too,
Like meteors glancing through fields Of blue.
That head and heart with its hopes and aims
That replied at once to our cCuntry's claims,
Is tossing now in delrium wild,
Pleading patriotism undenled;
Mixing it all with kind thoughts Of thee,
Like the debris of raging sea.
The hospital wards overrun
With many wounded husband and son;
And not cot or pillow is there
For that tossing head in its wild despair.
Here are feathers, and yard Of tick,
With scissors, thread and needle; come quick
To the rooms of the ''Sedler's Aid


Come to the tsSoldier's Aid, -


Mother and wife and maid.
For know that leg, that arm, and that head,
Is suffering now IN our own limbs stead.
List the ungarnished tales Of woe,
AS through the " est the guerillas go,
And would they not scatter, and seatne, and pee
These Northern States with their ron heel,
We're there none to keep the insurgents back
From their work of death on their bloody track
They stand in the fore fronts deadly light,
That N quiet may sleep at night;
q then gratefully mother and maid,


Come TO the rooms OF the ''SOldier Aid.'
Come to the ESSoldier's Aid,''


Mother and wife and maid
There's a sweet refrain to the terrible song
To the thunder OF war that rolls along;
Soft and sweet as the tones of Lutte
When the shocking cannon and shell are mute.
A sweet refrain OF a helping hand,
That follows the war shout over the land.
Dressing and nursing with Oil and balm
Or soothing the spirit with prayer and psalm.
We may not join in this bitter strife
But may flow into this song of love
Caught from the angels, bending above
At the COMMISSIONS side we may stand
They to bind up, we to make the band
Al the rooms OF the soldiers Aid. -


Come to the 'tSnldier's Aid -


Mother and wife and maid.
There is still another motive to press;
10 educe il our own hearts tenderness,
Like His who in agony blessed the thief,
And sent the son to his mothers relief.
Ii you bind the infants limb hand,
From all eXertion by gyve or band,
Will the bones grow firm and the muscles swell,
And the mind in a vigorous body dwell?
Thus if no acts OF good are performed,
Will not the spirit become deformed!
Hence, would we grow in each Christian grace,
Let us seek the good Samaritan's place;
Cherish all prompting to neighborIy love,
Alter the pattern of those above,
Where can we do this, mother and maId,
So well as can at the ''Soldier's Aiu.'