"Le Roi est mort!" "Vive le Roi!"
The Old Year, weeping, dies!
Ere we can mourn, a joyous chime
Peals through the midnight skies.
Oh! welcome! welcome! New-born Year!
We join the strains of joy;
To everyone our hearts hold dear
Be peace without alloy!
May fadeless light their pathway bless;
And, for a lasting stay,
Oh! may they find that happiness
That cannot pass away.
For years may come, and years may go,
And earthly joys grow old;
But heavenly love no change can know—
No time can make it cold.
Oh! welcome! welcome! New-born Year!
And, as we hail your birth,
May pure and holy thoughts come near
And raise our hopes from earth!
OUR NATIVE LAND.
Our Native Land! Our Native Land!
Long may old Erin's vales be green;
May plenty smile on every hand,
Be want and woe unseen!
Oh! let us join with heart and hand
To raise the song—Our Native Land!
Our Native Land! Our Native Land!
May countless blessings on her smile
May dove-eyed Peace her lily-wand
Wave o'er pure Emerald Isle—
Her sons, united brethren, stand,
To raise the song—Our Native Land!
Our Native Land! Our Native Land!
Let patriot voices join the song,
And swell the chorus high and grand,
Till every breeze shall bear it on.
O'er flowery mead and wave-kissed strand
Loud let it ring—Our Native Land!
Our Native Land! Our Native Land!
Let Erin's sense the notes prolong,
Together joined-a mighty band
United by one common song.
'Tis Honour's right-her just command
Then let us love Our Native Land!