From Rome this guerdon of our faith we hold:
What though its light o’er broken seas is rolled?
Unfaltering it shines through storm-clouds’ shade,
Unfailing beacon! by God’s Spirit fed.
A foreign faith! Ay, so, of that strange land
Whereof as citizens our free souls stand,
Whose earthly pasture is the church’s shrine—
Earth’s limits lost within her realm divine.