Page:The Riverside song book.djvu/29

 OUR COUNTRY&rsquo;S CALL. William Cullen Bryant.

Maestoso.

1. Lay down the axe; fling by the spade; Leave in its track the toiling plough;

2. Come ye, who breast the mountain storm By grassy steep or highland lake,

3. Come ye, who throng be - side the deep, Her ports and hamlets of the strand.

The ri - fle and the bayo-net blade For arms like yours were fit-ter now;

Come, for the land ye love, to form A bul - wark that no foe can break.

In num-ber like the waves that leap On his long-murm'ring marge of sand;

Ho! stur-dy as the oaks ye cleave, And moved as soon to fear and flight;

And ye whose homes are by the grand Swift riv - ers, ris - ing far a - way,

Few, few were they whose swords of old Won the fair land in which we dwell;

 Strike for our broad and good - ly land, Blow aft - er blow, till men shall see Men of the glade and for - est! leave Your woodcraft for the field of fight.

Come from the depth of your green land, As mighty in your march as they.

But we are ma - ny, we who hold The grim re-solve to guard it well.

That might and right move hand in hand, And glo-rious must their tri - umph be.

D.S.