America, I Sing My Praise

Beneath the Eagle's outstretched wings, I view

Your greening acres of democracy,

Your lilied fields of peace. Held in God's hand,

You are His ensign to the troubled world!

For hallowed by the Pilgrim Fathers' prayers,

Your land is HOME to all who enter through

Your open gates illumined by the Torch

Held high--

America, I sing my praise!

Your heart, a chalice high uplifted, brims

With love for little children; (Hear their laughter,

Their dancing footsteps down your avenues.)

For star-tall youth with eyes where dreams are mirrored;

For elder ones who drink fulfillment's wine.

On those grown fragile, gently do you place

A silver crown, then on the last dim trail

You lead them safely to the Gates of Dawn.

Your love is all-embracing, and your arm

Is long to reach across the sea to feed

The hungering. Your tender heart is torn

By might's cruel lash ... Now when, in love, your voice

Asks but a simple thing: Peace for all people,

We whom you nurture rise and give our pledge

To build a shrine of love inviolate

Within the Temple of Humanity.