II
Ascend, O Land of every Creed and Race!
Not thy full image, in New England's brook,
Nor in the South's lagoon; though there, a look
Delights us with thy chubby, infant face.
'Tis seas of joy, that shorelessly replace
The Ocean which, in time of old, forsook
The prairies for the cloud, or spring in nook,—
That show thee, Grown, through God's abundant grace.
From East to West, how joy's high seas expand,
Reflecting, not a foolish, mundane pride
That, thinking it does all, sets God aside—
But Virtue which, with heart and head and hand,
Works out God's purpose, with dear Christ for guide,
And holy spirits Light to understand!