Thomas D’Arcy McGee (1825–1868)

WE worship the Spirit that walks unseen

Through our land of ice and snow;

We know not His face, we know not His place,

But His presence and power we know.

Does the buffalo need the pale-face’s word

To find his pathway far?

What guide has he to the hidden ford,

Or where the green pastures are?

Who teacheth the moose that the hunter’s gun

Is peering out of the shade?

Who teacheth the doe and the fawn to run

In the track the moose has made?

Him do we follow, Him do we fear—

Spirit of earth and sky;

Who hears with the Wapiti’s eager ear

His poor red children’s cry.

Whose whisper we note in every breeze

That stirs the birch canoe;

Who hangs the reindeer moss on the trees

For the food of the caribou.

That Spirit we worship who walks, unseen,

Through our land of ice and snow;

We know not His face, we know not His place,

But His presence and power we know.