1 My country, 'tis of thee, Land where my fathers died, 2 My native country, thee,- I love thy rocks and rills, 3 Let music swell the breeze, 4 Our fathers' God, to thee, Author of liberty, To thee we sing: Long may our land be bright I God bless our native land! Through storm and night! 2 For her our prayers shall be, Our fathers' God, to thee, On thee we wait! God save the state. 3 Lord of all truth and right, In whom alone is might, On thee we call! Give us prosperity; Give us true liberty; May all the oppressed go free; God save us all! Hymns of the Spirit 513 I Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; Glory, glory, hallelujah! His truth is marching on. 2 I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I have read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps, His day is marching on. Glory, glory, hallelujah, etc. 3 I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel; 66 As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal; Let the hero born of woman crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching on." Glory, glory, hallelujah, etc. 4 He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; Glory, glory, hallelujah, etc. 5 In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! While God is marching on. Julia Ward Howe, 1819 |