1 Hail, our country's natal morn!
Hail, our spreading kindred born
Hail, thou banner, not yet torn,
Waving o'er the free!
While this day, in festal throng,
Millions swell the patriot's song,
Shall not we the notes prolong?
2 Who would sever freedom's shrine?
Who would draw the invidious line?
Though by birth one spot be mind,
Dear is all the rest--
Dear to me the South's fair land,
Dear the central mountain band,
Dear New England's rocky strand,
Dear the prairied West.
3 By our altars pure and free,
By our law's deep-rooted tree,
By the past's dread memory,
By our Washington--
By our common kindred tongue,
By our hopes--bright, buoyant, young,
By the tie of country strong,
We will still be one.
4 Fathers! have ye bled in vain?
Ages, must ye droop again?
Maker, shall we rashly stain
Blessings sent by thee?
No! receive our solemn vow,
While before thy throne we bow,
Ever to maintain as now,
Source: The Voice of Praise: a collection of hymns for the use of the Methodist Church #784