Tliere is mourning 'mong the atara That have luing thcir bcacon liglits On the blue watch-towers high In the lonely winter nighls, For some trusted sentinel Walking heaven's battlements In his silver coat of mail By a false step feil from thcnoe ; And there's raourning 'mong the stars For the missing watchman'B light - For the fallen and the ioet From the shining ranks of ïfight. O, Ihere's mourning 'mong the star ; In our country's firmament Pleiads more than one nre lost, And Iheir glorious light is spent, Another and another drops From our country's low'ring sky, Leavingdaikness down the track In the fading galaxy. O, there's mouruing 'mong the stars - Foarful sounds ara in the air, That betoken Terror's reign - Notes of anarchy and war. God of heaven ! share, oh, spare ! From ehe clreadful threatened doom Hanging o'er our couutry's fate ! Lift the clouda of mournful gloom ! God of heaven ! speak, oh, speak ! Bid the fallen stars go back - B.iok to theirown glorious home, In the country's zodiac ! And wlien they there again shaH shine, Nation8 all will "clap their hands," While '.he llirill of joy will reaoh ïo the earth'a remotest lands. Athens, Penn.