Thursdays Before the Throne

My country,' tis of thee,
sweet land of liberty, of Thee I sing;
land where my fathers died,
land of the pilgrims' pride,
from every mountainside let freedom ring!



My native country, Thee,
land of the noble free, Thy name I love;
I love Thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
my heart with rapture thrills, like that above.




Let music swell the breeze,
and ring from all the trees sweet freedom's song;
let mortal tongues awake;
let all that breathe partake;
let rocks their silence break, the sound prolong.



Our fathers' God, to Thee,
author of liberty, to Thee we sing;
long may our land be bright
with freedom's holy light;
protect us by Thy might, great God, our King.