My country, ’t is of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing; Land where my fathers died, Land of the pilgrims’ pride, From every mountain-side 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 I sing; Long may our land be bright With freedom’s holy light; Protect us by thy might, Great God our King. 1832.
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