William Cullen Bryant

“ Come, for the land ye love, to form A bul - wark that no foe can break.
In num-ber like the waves that leap On his long-murm'ring marge of sand;
Ho! stur-dy as the oaks ye cleave, And moved as soon to fear and flight;
And ye whose homes are by the grand Swift riv - ers, ris - ing far a - way,
Few, few were they whose swords of old Won the fair land in which we dwell;
D.S. Strike for our broad and good - ly land, Blow aft - er blow, till men shall see
Men of the glade and for - est! leave Your woodcraft for the field of fight. ”