Thy fertile valleys, bright in summer’s glow,
Thy cloudless skies, illumining all below,
Thy mountains, snowy with their thousand flocks,
And sweetest honey flowing from thy rocks,
Call for the grateful praise, the adoring thanks
Of Him who highest in creation ranks.
Say: has that being life, who views this scene
With dull, cold eye, and an unaltered mien?
Turn, proud descendant of a cherished line!
Mark the rich gifts, and bless the Power divine;