My country! ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty—
Of thee I sing,
Land where my fathers died;
Land of the pilgrim’s pride;
From every mountain side
Let temp’rance 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 infant 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 temp’rance’s holy light;
Protect us by thy might,
Great God, our King.
(John Pierpont)
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