Where flowers, in Eden's pristine dyes,
Bloom with a richer hue;
And other nations pride in kings,
And worship lordly powers;
Yet every voice of nature sings,
There is no land like ours!

Though other scenes, than such as grace
Our forests, fields, and plains,
May lend the earth a sweeter face
Where peace incessant reigns;
But dearest still to me the land
Where sunshine cheers the hours,
For God hath shown, with his own hand,
There is no land like ours!

Though other streams may softer flow
In vales of classic bloom,
And rivers clear as crystal glow,
That wear no tinge of gloom;
Though other mountains lofty look,
And grand seem olden towers,
We see, as in an open book,
There is no land like ours!

Though other nations boast of deeds
That live in old renown,
And other peoples cling to creeds
That coldly on us frown;
On pure religion, love, and law