At whose behest fair peace is giv’n,

The God who led our fathers o’er,

To Columbia’s happy shore.

May not anarch’s hydra form,

Thunder his voice, his breath the storm,

Desolate our happy land,

Desolate our happy land—

Mid fell discord’s wild uproar,

May no fiend of anarch roar,

Call the rugged, meddling throng