Classic Poem

With soaring voice and solemn music sing!
High to Heaven's gate let pealing trumpets ring!
To-day our hands consolidate
The Empire of a thousand years:
Delusive hopes, distracting fears,
Have passed and left her great
For Britain, Britain, we our jubilant anthems raise.
Uplift your voices all: worthy is she of praise!

Our Britain, issuing at the call of Fate
From her lone islets in the Northern Sea,
Donned her Imperial robe, assumed her crowned state,
Took the sole sceptre of the Free;
'Mid clang of arms her crescent glory rose,
By shattered fleet and flaming town:
Victorious at the last o'er all her foes,
Embattled rolls her splendid story down.
Soldier and seaman, side by side,
Her strong sons, greatly dared and bravely died
Close on their steps her dauntless toilers went
O'er unknown sea and pathless continent,
Till when the centuries of strife were done
They left the greatest Realm beneath the sun
Praise them and her; your grateful voices raise.
Mother of Freedom! thou art worthy of our praise!

No more we seek our Realm's increase
By War's red rapine, but by white-winged Peace;
To-day we seek to bind in one,
Till all our Britain's work be done —
Through wider knowledge closer grown,
As each fair sister by the rest is known;
Through mutual Commerce, mighty to efface
The envious bars of Time and Place;
Deep pulsing from a common heart
And through a common speech expressed, —
From North to South, from East to West,
Our great World Empire's every part;
A universal Britain, strong
To raise up Right and beat down Wrong.
Let this thing be! who shall our Realm divide?
Ever we stand together, Kinsmen, side by side!

To-day we would make free
Our millions of their glorious heritage.
Here, Labour crowds in hopeless misery, —
There, is unbounded work and ready wage.
The salt breeze, calling, stirs our Northern blood, —
Lead we the toilers to their certain good;
Guide we their feet to where
Is spread for those who dare
A happier Britain 'neath an ampler air.
Uprise, O Palace fair!
With ordered knowledge of each far-off land
For all to understand!
Uprise, O Palace fair, where for the Poor shall be
Wise thought and love to guide o'er the dividing sea.

First Lady of our British race!
'Tis well that with thy peaceful Jubilee
This glorious dream begins to be
This thy lost consort would; this would thy son,
Who has seen all thy Empire face to face
And fain would leave it One
Oh, may the Hand which rules our Fate
Keep this our Britain great!
We cannot tell, we can but pray
Heaven's blessing on our work to-day.
Uprise, O Palace fair, where every eye may see
This proud embodied Unity!
For Britain and our Queen one voice we raise, —
Laud them, rejoice, peal forth: worthy are they of praise!