And its valleys and hills by our children be trode!
"Can the language of strangers, in accents unknown,
Send a thrill to the bosom like that of our own!
The face may be fair, and the smile may be bland,
But it breathes not the tones of our dear native land.
There's no spot on earth
Like the home of our birth,
Where heroes keep guard o'er the altar and hearth.
"How sweet is the language that taught us to blend
The dear names of father, of husband, and friend;