VIII.
In grateful adoration now,
Upon the barren sands they bow.
What tongue of joy e’er woke such prayer,
As bursts in desolation there?
What arm of strength e’er wrought such power,
As waits to crown that feeble hour?
There into life an infant empire springs!
There falls the iron from the soul;
There liberty’s young accents roll,
Up to the King of kings!
To fair creation’s farthest bound,
That thrilling summons yet shall sound;
The dreaming nations shall awake,
And to their centre earth’s old kingdoms shake.
Pontiff and prince, your sway
Must crumble from that day;
Before the loftier throne of Heaven,
The hand is raised, the pledge is given—
One monarch to obey, one creed to own,
That monarch, God, that creed, His word alone.
[p8]
IX.
Spread out earth’s holiest records here,
Of days and deeds to reverence dear;
A zeal like this what pious legends tell?
On kingdoms built
In blood and guilt,
The worshippers of vulgar triumph dwell—
But what exploit with theirs shall page,
Who rose to bless their kind;
Who left their nation and their age,
Man’s spirit to unbind?
Who boundless seas passed o’er,
And boldly met, in every path,
Famine and frost and heathen wrath,
To dedicate a shore,
Where piety’s meek train might breathe their vow,
And seek their Maker with an unshamed brow;
Where liberty’s glad race might proudly come,
And set up there an everlasting home?