I vow to thee, my coun­try—all earth­ly things above—
Entire and whole and per­fect, the ser­vice of my love;
The love that asks no ques­tion, the love that stands the test,
That lays up­on the al­tar the dear­est and the best;
The love that ne­ver fal­ters, the love that pays the price,
The love that makes un­daunt­ed the fi­nal sac­ri­fice.

And there’s an­oth­er coun­try, I’ve heard of long ago—
Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;
We may not count her ar­mies, we may not see her king;
Her for­tress is a faith­ful heart, her pride is suf­fer­ing;
And soul by soul and si­lent­ly her shin­ing bounds in­crease,
And her ways are ways of gen­tle­ness, and all her paths are peace.