My Country Tis of Thee

My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrim's pride.
From ev'ry mountainside
Let freedom ring.
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake,
Let all that breathe partake,
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.
Our father's God, to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing;
Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King!
The Battle Hymn of the Republic
Mine eyes have seen the glory
O the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage
Where the grapes of wrath
Are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful
Lightning of His terrible
Swift sword;
His truth is marching on.

Refrain:
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
His truth is marching on.
He has sounded forth the
Trumpet that shall never
call retreat;
He is sifting out
The hearts of men
Before His judgment seat.
O be swift, my soul,
To answer Him,
Be jubilant my feet!
Our God is marching on.

Refrain:
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Our God is marching on.
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born
Across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom
That transfigures you and me;
As He died to make men holy,
Let us teach to make men free;
While God is marching on.

Refrain:
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
While God is marching on.