“Slaves of sloth and the senses, Clippers of Freedom’s wings, Come back to the Pilgrim’s Army And fight for the King of Kings; Come back to the Pilgrim’s conscience; Be born in the nation’s birth; And strive again as simple men For the freedom of the earth. Freedom a free-born nation still shall cherish, Be this our covenant, unchanging, sure: Earth shall decay; the firmament shall perish; Freedom and Truth immortal shall endure.”
Land of our fathers, when the tempest rages, When the wide earth is racked with war and crime, Founded forever on the Rock of Ages, Beaten in vain by surging seas of time,
Even as the shallop on the breakers riding, Even as the Pilgrim kneeling on the shore, Firm in thy faith and fortitude abiding, Hold thou thy children free forever more.
And when we sail as Pilgrims’ sons and daughters The spirit’s Mayflower into seas unknown, Driving across the waste of wintry waters The voyage every soul shall make alone,
The Pilgrim’s faith, the Pilgrim’s courage grant us; Still shines the truth that for the Pilgrim shone. We are his seed; nor life nor death shall daunt us. The port is Freedom! Pilgrim heart, sail on!
Through twelve stout generations New England blood I boast; The stubborn pastures bred them, The grim, uncordial coast,
Sedate and proud old cities,— Loved well enough by me, Then how should I be yearning To scour the earth and sea.
Each of my Yankee forbears Wed a New England mate: They dwelt and did and died here, Nor glimpsed a rosier fate.
My clan endured their kindred; But foreigners they loathed, And wandering folk, and minstrels, And gypsies motley-clothed.
Then why do patches please me, Fantastic, wild array? Why have I vagrant fancies For lads from far away.
My folk were godly Churchmen,— Or paced in Elders’ weeds; But all were grave and pious And hated heathen creeds.
Then why are Thor and Wotan To dread forces still? Why does my heart go questing For Pan beyond the hill?
My people clutched at freedom.— Though others’ wills they chained,— But made the Law and kept it,— And Beauty, they restrained.
Then why am I a rebel To laws of rule and square? Why would I dream and dally, Or, reckless, do and dare?
O righteous, solemn Grandsires, O dames, correct and mild, Who bred me of your virtues! Whence comes this changing child?—