Where the snowstorms wild
Raised o'er him a tomb,
While the North wind sang
Dirges in the gloom.

Town and village too
Over all our land,
Now like ant hills swarm
With this Christian band.

Now from distant shores
O'er the cruel sea,
Ship on ship draws near
Homage paying thee.

Blooming are thy fields,
Soft thy forests sigh,
Hid in earth's dark breast
Golden treasures lie.

And to East and West,
To the South and North--
Flies thy louder fame
Through the wide world forth!

Holy Russia, thou
Dost deserve to be
"Mother" called by all,
In our love to thee!