Your land is crowned with regal men,
Whose brows ne’er wore a diadem—
The men who, in our hour of need,
Reached out their hands and bade God speed.
Who watched across the distant strand
The anguish of our fainting land,
And grandly made our cause their own,
Till Slavery tottered on her throne.
When Slavery, full of wrath and strife,
Was clutching at the Nation’s life,
How precious were your words of cheer
That fell upon the listening ear.
And when did Fame, with glowing pen,
Record the deeds of nobler men—
The men who, facing want and pain,
Loved freedom more than paltry gain.
O noble men! ye bravely stood
True to our country’s highest good;
May God, who saw your aims and ends,
Forever bless our English friends!