Joseph Barnby
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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Where white her cliffs and ridges gleam, Beneath the northern skies, The land that fills the patriot’s dream, Our own dear England lies, Encompass’d by a lordly sea, And wreathed with ocean foam, The land of truth and liberty, Our treasure and our home. The Fate perchance our feet may set Upon a far off strand, Our hearts, thank God! are English yet; God bless the dear old land! To England then, with merry voice Send forth the old, old cheer, England our best, our home so blest, God bless our land so dear! ’Tis ours the greatness of her past, The glory she has known, And proudly still her strength shall last, Which trusts in God alone; The mighty ones who made her fame Be ours to emulate, And live and toil in freedom’s name, As great as they were great; For us doth shine the golden rays, That have thro’ a ges shone; Let’s match them with a kindred blaze, Thro' ages to live on; Thank God! her great free tongue is ours, That shall the world command, To England mightiest of pow’rs, God bless the dear old land.
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