Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

RULE, BRITANNIA!

BY JAMES THOMSON.

When Britain first, at Heaven’s command,
Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain: 
“Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
Britons never will be slaves.”

The nations not so blest as thee,
Must in their turns to tyrants fall
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all. 
“Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
Britons never will be slaves.”

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak. 
“Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
Britons never will be slaves.”

Thee haughty tyrants ne’er shall tame;
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy gen’rous flame
To work their woe and thy renown. 
“Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
Britons never will be slaves.”

To thee belongs the rural reign,
Thy cities shall with commerce shine,
All thine shall be the subject main,
And ev’ry shore it circles, thine. 
“Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
Britons never will be slaves.”

The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coasts repair;
Blest isle! with matchless beauty crown’d,
And manly hearts to guard the fair. 
“Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
Britons never will be slaves.”

Printed by H. Virtue and Company, Limited, City Road, London.