 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
ONE FAITH, ONE FLAG.
We must be severed far,
By desert, wave, and crag;
We follow many a star,
But rally round one Flag.
The mother and the child,
Though different be their name,
In storm or breezes mild,
Their spirit have the same:
To bring to peoples dead,
The lamp of holy oil,
Till every spot they tread,
Is free as England's soil.
By desert, wave, and crag;
We follow many a star,
But rally round one Flag.
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Though different be their name,
In storm or breezes mild,
Their spirit have the same:
To bring to peoples dead,
The lamp of holy oil,
Till every spot they tread,
Is free as England's soil.
We heard, if Duty bade,
From stubborn Maori pah,
To Burmah's grim stockade,
The old true wild hurrah.
The old true fearless will,
Is under foreign skies,
The boast of England still—
It conquers, or it dies.
The father and the son,
Draw the same soldier breath,
Divided yet are one,
In life and unto death.
From stubborn Maori pah,
To Burmah's grim stockade,
The old true wild hurrah.
The old true fearless will,
Is under foreign skies,
The boast of England still—
It conquers, or it dies.
The father and the son,
Draw the same soldier breath,
Divided yet are one,
In life and unto death.
We walk in different ways,
But show in every part,
The light of other days,
The same warm English heart.
Beneath the cloudless blue,
And in the Arctic night,
England is one and true,
The champion of the right.
Though parties rise and set,
Her love is ever fond;
Her word is given yet,
And taken as her bond.
But show in every part,
The light of other days,
The same warm English heart.
Beneath the cloudless blue,
And in the Arctic night,
England is one and true,
The champion of the right.
Though parties rise and set,
Her love is ever fond;
Her word is given yet,
And taken as her bond.
The naked doth she dress,
And in that royal robe,
Which covers all distress,
And gathers up the globe;
The charity, that dares
Its freedom wide to stretch,
And its grand charter shares
With any hunted wretch.
Wherever one complains,
A comrade's voice is known;
For England still maintains,
All other wrongs her own.
And in that royal robe,
Which covers all distress,
And gathers up the globe;
The charity, that dares
Its freedom wide to stretch,
And its grand charter shares
With any hunted wretch.
Wherever one complains,
A comrade's voice is known;
For England still maintains,
All other wrongs her own.
False traitors are the knaves,
Who downward would us drag,
And over brothers' graves
Divide our English flag.
We sundered are by sea,
And some may lowly plod,
But one great solemn plea
For justice goes to God.
However dread the cost,
United is our aim,—
If life itself be lost—
To honour every claim.
Who downward would us drag,
And over brothers' graves
Divide our English flag.
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And some may lowly plod,
But one great solemn plea
For justice goes to God.
However dread the cost,
United is our aim,—
If life itself be lost—
To honour every claim.
From Canada's black pine,
And gray Australian gum,
To India's golden mine,
Where beats the English drum;
Though arméd worlds may block,
Our purpose yet holds good,
To stand upon the rock,
Where firm our fathers stood;
To live the noble life,
Their faith established then.
To bridle barbarous strife,
And carry peace to men.
And gray Australian gum,
To India's golden mine,
Where beats the English drum;
Though arméd worlds may block,
Our purpose yet holds good,
To stand upon the rock,
Where firm our fathers stood;
To live the noble life,
Their faith established then.
To bridle barbarous strife,
And carry peace to men.
The mother and the child,
The father and the son,
Though winds may threaten wild,
In glory too are one;
A flag without a spot,
A venerable name,
Which never has forgot
Its heritage of fame;
To do their duty well,
By sowing lands of dearth
With kindly acts, that swell
The happy fruits of earth
The father and the son,
Though winds may threaten wild,
In glory too are one;
A flag without a spot,
A venerable name,
Which never has forgot
Its heritage of fame;
To do their duty well,
By sowing lands of dearth
With kindly acts, that swell
The happy fruits of earth
A tide that ever flows,
A sun that never sets,
A power that alway grows,
A care that none forgets;
A pulse that truly beats,
With every noble thing;
A foot that but retreats,
To give a farther spring;
These are the lofty lines,
Wherever deeds are done,
That show how England twines
Of many heroes one.
A sun that never sets,
A power that alway grows,
A care that none forgets;
A pulse that truly beats,
With every noble thing;
A foot that but retreats,
To give a farther spring;
These are the lofty lines,
Wherever deeds are done,
That show how England twines
Of many heroes one.
One voice for valiant plan,
One hatred of a blot,
One verdict that we can,
If all the world cannot;
One eye for Duty's part,
One ear for Honour's call
One hospitable heart,
Which open is to all;
One action without brag,
One empire more than Rome,
One faith, one glorious flag,
And everywhere one home.
One hatred of a blot,
One verdict that we can,
If all the world cannot;
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One ear for Honour's call
One hospitable heart,
Which open is to all;
One action without brag,
One empire more than Rome,
One faith, one glorious flag,
And everywhere one home.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |