Still shall our nation's sign
Roll out again its streaming stars
On all the border line,
And with the same old rallying-cry,
Beneath its folds we'll meet,
And they shall be our conquering sign,
Or be our winding-sheet!
'Tis said that when Jerusalem
Sank in her last despair,
A spectre sword hung gory red
Just o'er her in the air:
Ye that tear down your country's flag,
Look when God's gathering ire
Hangs in its place, just o'er your heads,
A sword of bloody fire!
--Monthly Religious Magazine.
