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| O LITTLE Land of lapping seas, | |
| Of vineyards, vales and hills; | |
| Of tender rains and rainbow plains, | |
| Of deserts and of rills; | |
| O little Land of mounting crags, | 5 |
| Of lonely height and deep; | |
| A world away thy children stray | |
| And long and wait and weep. | |
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REFRAIN From Egypt’s flesh-pots, Lord of wrath, | |
| With mighty outstretched hand, | 10 |
| Through seas and mountains cleave our path; | |
| Oh! Lord, redeem our land! | |
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| I know the golden oranges | |
| Englobed beneath the moon, | |
| The sky that spills ’twixt seas and hills | 15 |
| Its shining draught of noon; | |
| The vines that bind our holy hills | |
| With grapes like jewels set; | |
| The silver green of olive sheen | |
| Oh, can my soul forget? | 20 |
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| O little Land of holy men | |
| Of fearless dream and deed; | |
| From clime to clime the storms of time | |
| Have strewn thy hardy seed, | |
| And fearless still and holy still, | 25 |
| We sang through hate and shame; | |
| With faith we fought, with deed and thought | |
| And God’s enduring name. | |
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| My heart is singing like a bird | |
| Of home that still may be, | 30 |
| And joys I dared to leave, and spared, | |
| Hold out their arms to me. | |
| We cannot sleep in cushioned ease | |
| Nor yield to martial will, | |
| But we must hear God’s trumpet clear | 35 |
| Sound peace upon His Hill. | |
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