Forward so far into the mighty sea;

Joy was it and exultation to behold

Thine ancient standard’s rich emblazonry,

A glorious picture by the wind unrolled.

{41}

{41}

ENGLAND.

We look for, and have promise to behold

We

A better country, such as earth has none—

Yet, England, am I still thy duteous son,

And never will this heart be dead or cold

At the relation of thy glories old,

Or of what newer triumphs thou hast won,

Where thou as with a mighty arm hast done

The work of God, quelling the tyrants bold.

Elect of nations, for the whole world’s good

Thou wert exalted to a doom so high—

To outbrave Rome’s “triple tyrant,” to confound

Every oppressor, that with impious flood

 Prev. P 37/162 next