O God, be­neath Thy guid­ing hand
Our ex­iled fa­thers crossed the sea;
And when they trod the win­try strand,
With pray­er and psalm they wor­shiped Thee.

Thou heard­est, well pleased, the song, the pray­er:
Thy bless­ing came; and still its pow­er
Shall on­ward, through all ag­es, bear
The me­mo­ry of that ho­ly hour.

Laws, free­dom, truth and faith in God
Came with those ex­iles o’er the waves;
And, where their pil­grim feet have trod,
The God they trust­ed guards their graves.

And here Thy name, O God of love,
Their child­ren’s child­ren still adore,
Till these eter­nal hills re­move,
And spring adorns the earth no more.