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Dost thou not know God's country, where it lies?
The land long dreamed of, more desired than gold,
Which noble souls, by dauntless hope made bold,
Have searched the future for with longing eyes!
Hast thou not seen in heaven its hills arise?
Hast thou not viewed its glories manifold,
'Midst sky-wide scenery splendidly unrolled,
Ripe for hearts' trust and godlike enterprise?
Yes, thou hast known it in familiar guise,
Its soil thy feet are keeping with fast hold;
And thou dost love its songs, its flowers dost prize;
Thy corn-land and thy wine-land is its mould:
'T is here,--'t is here God's land lies, the divine,
America, thy heart's true home and mine!


All lands are God's lands; yet is this indeed
The home express of His divinity;
His visible hand redeemed it from the sea,
And sowed its fields with freedom's deathless seed.
He succored it most swiftly in its need;
In field and council men with awe did see
His arm made manifest almightily,
Scarce veiled in instruments of mortal breed.
He laid a way here for the feet that bleed,
A space for souls ayearn for liberty
To grow immortal in,--no more to plead
With nature for their portion which should be.
'T is here, O friend! the land lies that shall grow
The vine of sacred brotherhood below.