There, in his hours of bitterest wo,
Of peace and hope to tell,
I’d sing of freedom in his ear,
And he should smile, that song to hear.
And where the brave ship ploughed the sea,
Her stately course I’d mark on high:
The sailor, as he gazed on me,
Should deem his home was nigh—
Each voice in all that shouting band
Should bless the herald of the land.