作曲 : Henry S. Washburn/G.F. Root/1861
 Oh we shall meet but we shall miss him.
 There will be one vacant chair.
 We shall linger to caress him,
 While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
 When a year ago we gathered,
 Joy was in his mild blue eye.
 But a golden cord is severed.
 And our hopes in ruin lie.
 Oh we shall meet, but we shall miss him.
 There will be one vacant chair.
 We shall linger to caress him,
 While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
 At our fireside, sad and lonely,
 Often will the bosom swell,
 At remembrance of the story,
 How our noble Willie fell.
 How he strove to bear our banner,
 Thro' the thickest of the fight,
 And uphold our country's honor
 In the strength of manhood's might.
 Oh we shall meet but we shall miss him.
 There will be one vacant chair.
 We shall linger to caress him,
 While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
 True they tell us wreaths of glory,
 Evermore will deck his brow,
 But this soothes the anguish only,
 Sweeping o'er our heartstrings now.
 Sleep today o' early fallen,
 In thy green and narrow bed.
 Dirges from the pine and cypress
 Mingle with the tears we shed.
 Oh we shall meet but we shall miss him.
 There will be one vacant chair.
 We shall linger to caress him,
 While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
 Oh we shall meet but we shall miss him.
 There will be one vacant chair.
 We shall linger to caress him,
 While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
 While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.