The Proud, The Cold Untroubled Heart Of

Our Land, The First Garden Of Liberty's Tree-- It Has Been, And Shall Be, The Land Of The Free.

What Though My Winged Hours Of Bliss Have Been, Like Angel Visits, Few And Far Between.

Ye Are Brothers! Ye Are Men! And We Conquer But To Save.

Love! The Surviving Gift Of Heaven, The Choicest Sweet Of Paradise, In Life's Else Bitter Cup Distilled.

I'll Meet The Raging Of The Skies, But Not An Angry Father.