There's a troop of trusty children from the Island
Who've planted Englands up and down the sea;
Who cultivate the lowland and the highland
And fly the gallant colours of the free:
Their hearts are as loyal as their mother's;
Their hands are as ready as their sire's
Their bond is a union of brothers,--
Who fear not a holocaust of fires!
Then here's to the Sons of the nation
Flying the flag of the free;
Holding the farm and the station,
Keeping the Gates of the Sea;
Handed and banded together,
In Arts, and in Arms, and in Song,
Father and son, united as one,
Bearing her Banners along,
Peacefully furled in the van of the world,
Or waving and braving the wrong!
THE RED ROSE OF WAR.
BY F. HARALD WILLIAMS.
God hath gone forth in solemn might to shake
The peoples of the earth,
Through the long shadow and the fires that make
New altar and new hearth!
And with the besom of red war He sweeps
The sin and woe away,
To purge with fountains from His ancient deeps
The dust of old decay.
O not in anger but in Love He speaks
From tempest round Him drawn,
Unveiling thus the fair white mountain peaks
Which tremble into dawn.
Not otherwise would Truth be all our own
Unless by flood and flame,
When the last word of Destiny is known--
God's fresh revealed Name.
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