The Vacant Chair

We shall meet, but we shall miss him,
there will be one Vacant Chair,
We shall linger to caress him
as we breath our evening prayer.

Photo taken and permission for use granted by Scott Solice

When one year ago we gathered,
Joy was in his mild blue eye.
Now the golden cord is severed,
And our hopes in ruin lie.

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 the banner
Thro’ the thickest of the fight
And uphold our country’s honor
In the strength of manhood’s might.

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.

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.

— The Vacant Chair
Words by H. S. Washburn
Music by George F. Root