What cordial welcomes greet the guest
By thy lone rivers of the West;

How faith is kept, and truth revered,
And man is loved, and God is feared,
In woodland homes,

And where the ocean border foams.

There's freedom at thy gates and rest
For Earth's down-trodden and oppressed,
A shelter for the hunted head,

For the starved laborer toil and bread,

Power, at thy bounds,

Stops and calls back his baffled hounds.

Oh, fair young mother! on thy brow
Shall sit a nobler grace than now.
Deep in the brightness of the skies
The thronging years in glory rise,
And, as they fleet,

Drop strength and riches at thy feet.

William Cullen Bryant

BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath

are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;

His truth is marching on.

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 can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps;

His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel: "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."

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call re

treat;

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment

seat:

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me: As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.

Julia Ward Howe

CONCORD HYMN

SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE MONUMENT, APRIL 19, 1836

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,

Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;

And Time the ruined bridge has swept

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set to-day a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Hats off!

THE FLAG GOES BY

Along the street there comes

A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums,

A flash of color beneath the sky:
Hats off!

The flag is passing by!

Blue and crimson and white it shines,
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines.

Hats off!

The colors before us fly;

But more than the flag is passing by:

Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great,

Fought to make and to save the State:

Weary marches and sinking ships;

Cheers of victory on dying lips;

Days of plenty and years of peace;
March of a strong land's swift increase;

Equal justice, right and law,
Stately honor and reverend awe;

Sign of a nation, great and strong

To ward her people from foreign wrong:
Pride and glory and honor,-ali
Live in the colors to stand or fall.

Hats off!

Along the street there comes

A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums;
And loyal hearts are beating high:
Hats off!

The flag is passing by!

Henry Holcomb Bennett

"YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND"

Ye Mariners of England

That guard our native seas!

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,

The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again
To match another foe;

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow! While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave!-
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell

Your manly hearts shall glow,

As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow!
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,
Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak
She quells the floods below,
As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy winds do blow!
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow

To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow! When the fiery fight is heard no more,

And the storm has ceased to blow.

Thomas Campbell

"ENGLAND, MY ENGLAND"

What have I done for you,

England, my England?

What is there I would not do,

England, my own?

With your glorious eyes austere,