Hail to the land whereon we tread, Our fondest boast! The sepulchres of mighty dead, The truest hearts that ever bled, Who sleep on glory's brightest bed, A fearless host: No slave is here: our unchained feet, Walk freely as the waves that beat Our coast. (James Gates Percival)

Hail to the land whereon we tread, Our fondest boast! The sepulchres of mighty dead, The truest hearts that ever bled, Who sleep on glory's brightest bed, A fearless host: No slave is here: our unchained feet, Walk freely as the waves that beat Our coast.

James Gates Percival

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