The patriot from his walls of brass <br />Is singing loudly as I pass; <br />With fearless heart and open eyes, <br />He shouts the ancient battle cries; <br />And, where I pause to hear him sing, <br />A silent crowd is listening. <br /> <br />My country, God bestows by thee <br />The glory of the world to be <br />The glory thou alone canst give <br />To last amid things fugitive. <br /> <br />My country, an ideal form <br />I see thee splendid in the storm, <br />Directress of the power divine <br />That makes the expectant future thine. <br /> <br />My country, all the world shall bow <br />Before thy peace-conceiving brow, <br />And all the peoples humbly stand <br />Submissive to thy blessing hand. <br /> <br />My country, yea, the foes who raise <br />A tyrant flag shall learn to praise <br />Thy steadfast love that dares to fight <br />The horde of Satan for the right. <br /> <br />My country, loveliest, strongest, best, <br />Thou hast a mission to the rest, <br />And greater wealth and love shall be <br />The guerdon of thy ministry. <br /> <br />In every land I hear him sing; <br />In every land I see him fling <br />His country’s flag against the skies <br />And gaze aloft with dazzled eyes; <br />And then his loud applause rings round <br />His walls of brass with brazen sound; <br />And deep below his cheering loud <br />I mark the murmur of the crowd.<br /><br />John Le Gay Brereton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-patriot-5/
