My country, God bestows by thee
The glory of the world to be
—The glory thou alone canst give
To last amid things fugitive.

My country, an ideal form
I see thee splendid in the storm,
Directress of the power divine
That makes the expectant future thine.

My country, all the world shall bow
Before thy peace-conceiving brow,
And all the peoples humbly stand
Submissive to thy blessing hand.

My country, yea, the foes who raise
A tyrant flag shall learn to praise
Thy steadfast love that dares to fight
The horde of Satan for the right.

My country, loveliest, strongest, best,
Thou hast a mission to the rest,
And greater wealth and love shall be
The guerdon of thy ministry.

In every land I hear him sing;
In every land I see him fling
His country’s flag against the skies
And gaze aloft with dazzled eyes;
And then his loud applause rings round
His walls of brass with brazen sound;
And deep below his cheering loud
I mark the murmur of the crowd.