 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
For Denmark, ho!
For Denmark, ho!
Is the cry, we know,
And the shout,—Arise, arise!
They are struggling long
'Gainst might and wrong,
The valiant weak, with the craven strong,
Their homes the invader's prize.
Is the cry, we know,
And the shout,—Arise, arise!
They are struggling long
'Gainst might and wrong,
The valiant weak, with the craven strong,
Their homes the invader's prize.
A fair fresh Rose,
From her northern snows,
Is worn on England's heart,
And shall England see
Her parent tree
Crushed by malice? It shall not be,—
Ours be the helper's part.
From her northern snows,
Is worn on England's heart,
And shall England see
Her parent tree
Crushed by malice? It shall not be,—
Ours be the helper's part.
225
Let a voice of might
For the just and right
Resound o'er sea and land;
Let the olive fade
Ere we fail in aid,
And the far-seen gleams of a half-drawn blade
Flash from our ready hand.
For the just and right
Resound o'er sea and land;
Let the olive fade
Ere we fail in aid,
And the far-seen gleams of a half-drawn blade
Flash from our ready hand.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |