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Cumberland Blues

Year:

2004

4:08

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It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. 

Abraham Lincoln, November 19th 1863

My Country, 'tis of thee, 
Sweet land of liberty, 
Of thee I sing. 
Land where my fathers died, 
Land of the pilgrim's pride, 
From every mountainside 
Let freedom ring. 

My native country, thee, 
Land of the noble free, 
Thy name I love. 
I love thy rocks and rills, 
Thy woods and templed hills; 
My heart with rapture fills 
Like that above. 

Let music swell the breeze, 
And ring from all the trees 
Sweet freedom's song. 
Let mortal tongues awake; 
Let all that breathe partake; 
Let rocks their silence break, 
The sound prolong. 

Our fathers' God, to Thee, 
Author of liberty, 
To Thee we sing. 
Long may our land be bright 
With freedom's holy light; 
Protect us by Thy might, 
Great God, our King! A-men. 
One verse, crossed out by Smith in original manuscripts, is generally omitted. Originally the third verse, it reads:

No more shall tyrants here 
With haughty steps appear 
And soldier bands. 
No more shall tyrants dread 
Above the patriot dead; 
No more our blood be shed 
By alien hands. 

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