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God bless our native land

Firm may she ever stand

Through storm and night

When the wild tempests rave

Ruler of wind and wave

Do Thou our country save

By Thy great might

For her our prayers shall rise

To God above the skies

On Him we wait

Thou who art ever night

Guarding with watchful eye

To Thee aloud we cry

God save the State

Not on this land alone,

but be God's mercies known

from shore to shore:

Lord, make the nations see

that men should brothers be,

and form one family

the wide world o'er.

2) 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!

If such there breathe, go, mark him well;

For him no Minstrel raptures swell;

High though his titles, proud his name,

Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;

Despite those titles, power, and pelf,

The wretch, concentred all in self,

Living, shall forfeit fair renown,

And, doubly dying, shall go down

To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,

Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.

3) My country! In thy days of glory past

A beauteous halo circled round thy brow

and worshipped as a deity thou wast-

Where is thy glory, where the reverence now?

Thy eagle pinion is chained down at last,

And grovelling in the lowly dust art thou,

Thy minstrel hath no wreath to weave for thee

Save the sad story of thy misery!

Well-let me dive into the depths of time

And bring from out the ages, that have rolled

A few small fragments of these wrecks sublime

Which human eye may never more behold

And let the guerdon of my labour be,

My fallen country! One kind wish for thee!