Over the tops of trees,
The giant redwood’s crown,
And where the gentle breeze
Scatters the thistle down.
Over the steeples high,
Swinging the weather vane,
In seasons wet, or dry,
In sunshine and in rain.
Over the clouds of snow,
Wafting the aeronaut,
Where birds do never go,
In skies with danger fraught.
Over the salty sea,
Driving the noble ship,
Laden with silk and tea,
Upon her homeward trip.
Over the desert plain
In Afric’s sunny land,
Carrying in its train
Great clouds of burning sand.
Over our heads so mild
We scarcely feel its breath,
Or in a tempest wild
Strewing its path with death.
Over the mighty west,
Where roused by maddened ire,
It bears upon its crest
An awful prairie fire.
Over the stormy sky,
Where currents meet and clash,
And make the lightning fly.
With sudden dart and flash.
Over the ocean shore,
Tossing the waves in spray,
And in the thunder’s roar
Heard many miles away.
Over the tinted cloud,
Under the shining sun,
Ruling over the proud,
Since life was first begun.