Where the dews and the rains of heaven have their fountain,

Like its thunder and its lightning our brave burst on the foe,

Up above the clouds on Freedom’s Lookout Mountain

Raining life-blood like water on the valleys down below.

O, green be the laurels that grow,

O sweet be the wild-buds that blow,

In the dells of the mountain where the brave are lying low.

Light of our hope and crown of our story,

Bright as sunlight, pure as starlight shall their deeds of daring glow,

While the day and the night out of heaven shed their glory,

132

On Freedom’s Lookout Mountain whence they routed Freedom’s foe.

O, soft be the gales when they go

Through the pines on the summit where they blow,

Chanting solemn music for the souls that passed below.