. Civil War echoes : character sketches and state secrets . ately followed by one of theloveliest old English ballads, rendered by Mrs. FannieHart Joslyn, formerly of London, later of Detroit, in themost superb contralto voice ever given woman, and whokindly consented to sing just one song for the occasion,by special invitation. Here are the words: Likeness of the best of mothers: Oh, how dear thou art to me!As I thus behold thine image, Fancy bears me back to thee! Brighter far the fond resemblance Than the artists hand can trace,[In my soul there shines reflected All thy goodness and thy gra
. Civil War echoes : character sketches and state secrets . ately followed by one of theloveliest old English ballads, rendered by Mrs. FannieHart Joslyn, formerly of London, later of Detroit, in themost superb contralto voice ever given woman, and whokindly consented to sing just one song for the occasion,by special invitation. Here are the words: Likeness of the best of mothers: Oh, how dear thou art to me!As I thus behold thine image, Fancy bears me back to thee! Brighter far the fond resemblance Than the artists hand can trace,[In my soul there shines reflected All thy goodness and thy grace.]—2—: || : :||: Mother dearest, best and kindest. Thou art gone so far away!: 11 : Would thine eyes were on me smiling. As upon thy breast I lay.—: || : : || :—(3 times) Oh, return, my dearest mother. For I pine for thee the world is sad without thee; All my joy with thee is gone. All my longing, all my yearning— Is thy loving face to see!: 11: Oh, I can not live without thee. Let me fly again to thee.—: || : : ||:—(3 times) 140. U. S. SENATOR TIMOTHY 0. HOWE, WISCONSINLATER, POSTMASTER-GENERAL ClviL-wAR Echoes — Character General Banks was then persuaded to give another reci-tation, and chose the following poem by D. R. Locke—(Petroleum V. Nasby) : Let Me But Touch His Garment Let me but touch His garment—on deaths very verge, All soaked and sodden with impure desires, With blood thrice heated with hell-lighted power less than His the sun-stained man can purge. Let me but touch His garment; I came not as came The Syrian woman, whose despairing wail Went up to heaven for her frail bodys ail:—A bruised and sinking soul hath much the better claim. Let me but touch His garment—in my sorest need His side I cling to, for I know and feel The man-enveloped God hath power to heal:Let me but touch the hem, I shall be well, indeed. Let me but touch His garment—stand ye all aside. Nor access to my souls relief deny; A lost soul writhing, shr
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