To My Country

Girded by the broad Atlantic
And the vast Pacific wide;
Rocky mountains towering skyward
On the western surf held side.
Land of plenty in thy feastings
Slight not one who gave thee all,
And forget not that self-centered
Nations are the first to fall.

May the God who rules above thee
Pour into thy outstretched hands
From the flowing horn of plenty;
Peace within thy border lands.
May the skies be blue above thee;
Richest blessings o’er thee flow;
Faith uphold thee, love attend thee
As thy cities thrive and grow.

May the God who rules with mercy
Set for thee a place above;
Draw thee to His mighty bosom
As a child or lamb He loves.
May He bless thee, guard thee, keep thee,
Guide thee o’er thy onward way;
Till the tides of time shall sweep thee
To the land of endless day.

– Circa 1930

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