For thee, O dear, dear country
Author: Bernard of Morlaix
For thee, O dear, dear country, 
Mine eyes their vigils keep; 
For very love, beholding 
Thy happy name, they weep. 
The mention of thy glory 
Is unction to the breast 
And medicine in sickness 
And love and life and rest. 
 
O one, O only mansion, 
O paradise of joy, 
Where tears are ever banished 
And smiles have no alloy! 
The Lamb is all thy splendor, 
The Crucified thy praise; 
His laud and benediction 
Thy ransomed people raise. 
 
With jasper glow thy bulwarks, 
Thy streets with emeralds blaze; 
The sardis and the topaz 
Unite in thee their rays; 
Thine ageless walls are bonded 
With amethyst unpriced; 
The saints build up thy fabric, 
The cornerstone is Christ. 
 
Thou hast no shore, fair ocean; 
Thou hast no time, bright day, 
Dear fountain of refreshment 
To pilgrims far away! 
Upon the Rock of Ages 
They raise thy holy tower; 
Thine is the victor's laurel 
And thine the golden dower. 
 
And now we fight the battle, 
But then shall wear the crown 
Of full and everlasting 
And passionless renown: 
But He whom now we trust in 
Shall then be seen and known; 
And they that know and see Him 
Shall have Him for their own. 
 
The morning shall awaken, 
The shadows shall decay, 
And each true-hearted servant 
Shall shine as doth the day: 
There God, our King and portion, 
In fullness of His grace, 
Shall we behold forever, 
And worship face to face. 
 
O sweet and blessèd country, 
The home of God's elect! 
O sweet and blessèd country, 
That eager hearts expect! 
Jesus, in mercy bring us, 
To that dear land of rest; 
Who art, with God the Father, 
And Spirit, ever blest. 
 
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