When Israel camped by Migdol hoar,
  Down at her feet her shawm she threw,
But Moses sung and timbrels rung 
  For Pharaoh’s stranded crew.
So God appears in apt events –
  The Lord is a man of war!
So the strong wing to the muse is given 
      In victory’s roar.

Deep be the ode that hymns the fleet –
  The fight by night – the fray, 
Which bore our Flag against the powerful stream, 
  And led it up to day.
Dully through din of larger strife 
  Shall bay that warring gun;
But none the less to us who live 
  It peals – an echoing one.

The shock of ships, the jar of walls, 
  The rush through thick and thin –
The flaring fire-rafts, glare and gloom –
  Eddies, and shells that spin –
The boom-chain burst, the hulks dislodged,
  The jam of gun-boats driven,
Or fired, or sunk – made up a war 
  Like Michael’s waged with leven.

They fought through lurid dark till dawn; 
  The war-smoke rolled away
With clouds of night, and showed the fleet
  In scarred yet firm array,
Above the forts, above the drift 
  Of wrecks which strife had made;
And Farragut sailed up to the town 
  And anchored – sheathed the blade.

The moody broadsides, brooding deep, 
  Hold the lewd mob at bay,
While o’er the armed decks’ solemn aisles 
  The meek church-pennons play;
By shotted guns the sailors stand, 
  With foreheads bound or bare; 
The captains and the conquering crews 
  Humble their pride in prayer.

They pray; and after victory, prayer 
  Is meet for men who mourn their slain;
The living shall unmoor and sail, 
  But Death’s dark anchor secret deeps detain.
Yet Glory slants her shaft of rays
  Far through the undisturbed abyss;
There must be other, nobler worlds for them 
  Who nobly yield their lives in this.