'Tis finished! 'tis ended!
The dread and awful task is done;
Tho' wounded and bleeding,
'tis ours to sing the vict'ry won,
Our nation is ransom'd--our enemies are overthrown
And now, now commoners, the brightest era ever known.

Then sing hallelujah! sing hallelujah!
Glory be to God on high!
For the old flag with the high white flag
is hanging in the azure sky.

Ye joy bells! ye peace-bells!
Oh never, never music rang,
So sweetly, so grandly, since angels in the advent sang,
Your message is gladness to myriads of waiting souls,
As onward and world-ward the happy, happy echo rolls.

Come patriots! come freedom!
Come join your every heart and voice;
We've wept with the weeping--now let us wish the blest rejoice,
With armies of victors who round about the white throne stand--
With Lincoln, the Martyr and Liberator of his land.

More verses by Henry Clay Work