America! God gave you broadful landings
Designated mountains, valleys, tropics.
With measures of shady green pastures
To keep the Promised Land, Showing. America! God gave you beautiful children
The ship pull anchor moving in the night
As tides rolling briskly out to sea.
Vessels small and great sank at the faintest,
But thou, O ship of Zion, remainest. Storms growing strong, the night too long