The Anniversaries :: :: University of Virginia Library

Lord! from Thee what grace and glory
Hath thy people England won!
Marvels make divine her story,
Marvels which the Lord hath done.
Why delay her lips so long?
Wherefore swells no mighty song?

Thou from lowly plight hast brought her
Unto sovereign sway and state;
Thou Thy holiest lore hast taught her,
Thou hast given Thy gifts most great;
Her the Lord of Hosts hath led,
Her the God of Grace hath fed.

Strong her guardian ocean swelleth,
Winds and waves for her have fought;
In their wrath deliverance dwelleth,
Thou by them hast rescue wrought.
Nought of this high grace abate!
Keep Thine Isle inviolate!

Yet not only waters guarded,
Yet not only winds repelled:
Hero hearts each danger warded,
Mighty hands each foeman quelled.
Hearts heroic still create!
Mighty hands still consecrate!

From of old Thy gifts were given;
Grace with Thee she early found.
Ages roll and Earth is riven;
Still Thine England sitteth crowned:
Those imperial robes unrent,
That far shining light unspent.

Nay! a richer robe she weareth
Than of yore about her shone;
Lo! a mightier torch she beareth,
As she lights the nations on:
Still her strength doth wax more strong;
More sublime should grow her song.

Best belovëd of the nations,
Freedom first she won from Thee;
Grows the grace with generations—
Our unending liberty:
Mean nor scant our fathers' store,
Help us, Lord, to make it more!

When Thy Word should be unsealëd,
When Thy Grace some New Birth meant,
Here the joy was first revealëd,
Here the darkness first was rent.
England first Thy Spirit moved,
Ours was still the land beloved.

In Thy servants' mighty muster
Foremost stood our fathers, Lord;
For their eyes Thine orient lustre,—
For their ears Thine earliest word!
Speak thy counsel now as then
First unto Thine Englishmen!

Still the land beloved Thou lendest
Of Thy radiancy most bright;
Thine own cause Thou still commendest
To her majesty and might:
On her lips Thy Truth still glows,
Forth from her Thy Word still goes.

Mightily she works Thy pleasure,
Great Thine England's going forth!
Lo! she beareth of her treasure

To the ends of all the earth.
Boundless realm and farthest shore
Speak her tongue and learn her lore.

There, where other flowers are gleaming,
Lo! her freedom bloometh bright;
Strange the stars that there are beaming,
Yet divinely glows her light.
Mighty nations throned afar,
Her majestic offspring are.

Were not hers the sovereign sages?
Wrought not here the peerless king?
What sweet souls have won the ages
Like the souls that here did sing?
May not England make meet boast
Of her part in Thy great host?

Were not hers the saints victorious?
Gleamed not here Thy sword divine?

Warriors mighty, statesmen glorious,
Lowly seekers, Lord, of Thine!
Gird us with the Spirit's sword!
Make of us Thy Seekers, Lord!

Lord! we lift our fathers' banner.
Lord! our fathers' might we ask.
Give us after their high manner
To pursue their glorious task!
Shalt Thou not rejoice again
In Thy valiant Englishmen?

Lord! Thy people England's story
Speaks of Thee full loud and clear;
Lift Thy people England's glory
Still unto Thine own more near!
Help her to a holier reign!
Teach her a diviner strain!

“God is decreeing to begin some new and great period in His Church, even to the reforming of Reformation itself: what does He then but reveal Himself to His servants, and as His manner is, first to His Englishmen.”— Milton, Areopagitica.