1. In pleasant lands have fallen the lines That bound our
2. What thanks, O God, to thee are due, That thou didst
goodly heritage; And safe beneath our
plant our fathers here; And watch and guard them
sheltering vines Our youth is blest, and soothed our age.
as they grew, A vineyard, to the Planter dear.

3. The toils they bore our ease have wrought;
They sowed in tears, in joy we reap;
The birthright they so dearly bought,
We'll guard till we with them shall sleep.

4. Thy kindness to our fathers, shown
In weal and woe through all the past,
Their grateful sons, O God, shall own,
While here their name and race shall last.