Hark! from the shores where breaking billows roar, A voice majestic shakes the Atlantic shore. No longer bowed beneath a tyrant’s hand, Awakes to life a brave, unbended land. The iron yoke, by haughty Britain cast, Is broken snapped, and scattered to the past.
Upon this scroll, by virtue’s finger signed, A sacred truth is flashed upon mankind: That Heav’n above, in wisdom great and free, Endowed each soul with life and liberty. No crown shall rule, no scepter here shall reign, Where equal men their native rights maintain.
Through rolling years and ages yet untold, Shall this great day in golden script be enrolled. Though war’s fierce tempest round our borders fly, And smoke of battle cloud the summer sky, The spark here struck shall kindle to a flame, And distant empires marvel at our name.
O Thou, who guides the stars and weighs the deep, Protect the vineyard which Thy servants reap. May this Republic, born in storm and strife, Endure to ages with immortal life; Till twice a hundred years and fifty more, Shall find us free, upon this chosen shore.
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