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O Southland! O Southland!
 * Have you not heard the call,

The trumpet blown, the word made known
 * To the nations, one and all?

The watchword, the hope-word.
 * Salvation's present plan?

A gospel new, for all—for you:
 * Man shall be saved by man.

O Southland! O Southland!
 * Do you not hear to-day

The mighty beat of onward feet,
 * And know you not their way?

'Tis forward, 'tis upward.
 * On to the fair white arch

Of Freedom's dome, and there is room
 * For each man who would march.

O Southland, fair Southland!
 * Then why do you still cling

To an idle age and a musty page,
 * To a dead and useless thing?

'Tis springtime! 'Tis work-time!
 * The world is young again!

And God's above, and God is love,
 * And men are only men.