In the name of God! Amen!
Stand for our Southern rights;
On our side, Southern men,
The God of battles fights!
Fling the invaders far--
Hurl back their work of woe--
The voice is the voice of a brother,
But the hands are the hands of a foe.
They come with a trampling army,
Invading our native sod--
Stand, Southrons! fight and conquer,
In the name of the mighty God!

They are singing _our_ song of triumph,[1]
Which proclaimed _us_ proud and free--
While breaking away the heartstrings
Of our nation's harmony.
Sadly it floateth from us,
Sighing o'er land and wave;
Till, mute on the lips of the poet,
It sleeps in his Southern grave.
Spirit and song departed!
Minstrel and minstrelsy!
We mourn ye, heavy hearted,--
But we will--we will be free!

They are waving _our_ flag above us,
With the despot's tyrant will;