Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!

Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!

My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy read more

My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!

Our country is that spot to which our heart is bound.
[Fr., La patrie est aux lieux ou l'ame read more

Our country is that spot to which our heart is bound.
[Fr., La patrie est aux lieux ou l'ame est enchainee.]

The infant, on opening his eyes, ought to see his country, and to
the hour of his death never read more

The infant, on opening his eyes, ought to see his country, and to
the hour of his death never lose sight of it.
[Fr., Un enfant en ouvrant ses yeux doit voir la patrie, et
jusqu'a la mort ne voir qu'elle.]

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our read more

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee,--are all with thee!

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my read more

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand!

So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.

So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.

Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to read more

Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to thy rugged strand!