Spring, like thine oaks, by hill and glen.
What cordial welcomes greet the guest
By thy lone rivers of the west;
How faith is kept and truth revered,
And man is loved and God is feared
In woodland homes,
And where the solemn ocean foams.
There’s freedom at thy gates, and rest,
For earth’s down-trodden and opprest,
A shelter for the hunted head,