And men who come behind us yet unborn, 
Nor dimly guessed at down the brook of time, 
Shall celebrate the brave undying morn 
When the free nations put aside their scorn 
For friendship, rock no sundering surge may climb, 
When their strong hands gripped hard across the sea, 
Flushed with fresh victory, 
Lands royal, leal, and great, vast beautiful, and free. 
 
Our children’s children shall unsheathe the sword 
Against the envy of some tyrant power, 
The leader of your people and our lord 
Shall join to wrest from slavery abhorred 
Some other race, a fair storm-ruined flower ! 
O fair republic, lover and sweet friend, 
Your loyal hand extend, 
Let freedom, peace and faith grow stronger to the end. 
 
O child of freedom, thou art very fair ! 
Thou hast white roses on thy eager breast, 
The scent of all the South is in thy hair, 
Thy lips are fragrant with the blossoms rare 
Blown under sea waves when the white wings rest ! 
Come to our warrior breast, where victory 
Sits passionate and free— 
Ring out the wild salute !  Our sister over sea ! 
 
CHISWICK PRESS  CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO  TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON