Church and State

My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims’ pride,
From every mountainside,
Let freedom ring!

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Let tyrants shake their iron rods,
And slavery clank her galling chains:
We see them not; we trust in God:
Our Nation’s God forever reigns.

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My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills,
Like that above.

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Judge eternal, throned in splendor,
Lord of lords and King of kings,
With Thy living fire of judgment
Purge this land of bitter things;
Solace all its wide dominion
With the healing of Thy wings.

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No more shall tyrants here
With haughty steps appear,
And soldier bands;
No more shall tyrants tread
Above the patriot dead—
No more our blood be shed
By alien hands.

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Let Tyrants Shake their Iron Rods
by William and Chester Billings

My Country 'Tis of Thee
by Samuel F. Smith

Judge Eternal, Throned in Splendor
by Henry S. Holland