LYRICS
OUR COUNTRY
AMERICA
Samuel Francis Smith
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty;
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,--
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring.
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,--
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake,
Let all that breathe partake!
Let rocks their silence break,--
The sound prolong.
Our fathers' God,--to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing;
Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by thy might,
Great God, our King.
MY NATIVE LAND
Sir Walter Scott
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, concent'red all in self.
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