Time was when tyrants reigned,
When law was law for naught;
When man, with mind distraught,
Knelt with allegiance feigned.
Now, in these ampler days
When dews of peace distil,
When all may climb who will,
Just souls may justly praise.
Ours was thine earlier sorrow;
Ours is thy later joy;
No base, unmeet alloy;
No faithless, vague to-morrow.
But tender, soulful, true;
O'er leagues of greening plain,
From east to western main,
'Neath all our brightening blue.
Knit by love's kindred tie,
Heart wafteth unto heart
Weal, time nor space may part:
Best gift from low or high.
Best gifts, Oh Prince! be thine
In whom our hopes repose;
Thine, and thy English Rose;
Till crowned of crown divine.