Here you will find the Poem The Patriot of poet John Le Gay Brereton
The patriot from his walls of brass Is singing loudly as I pass; With fearless heart and open eyes, He shouts the ancient battle cries; And, where I pause to hear him sing, A silent crowd is listening. My country, God bestows by thee The glory of the world to be The glory thou alone canst give To last amid things fugitive. My country, an ideal form I see thee splendid in the storm, Directress of the power divine That makes the expectant future thine. My country, all the world shall bow Before thy peace-conceiving brow, And all the peoples humbly stand Submissive to thy blessing hand. My country, yea, the foes who raise A tyrant flag shall learn to praise Thy steadfast love that dares to fight The horde of Satan for the right. My country, loveliest, strongest, best, Thou hast a mission to the rest, And greater wealth and love shall be The guerdon of thy ministry. In every land I hear him sing; In every land I see him fling His country?s flag against the skies And gaze aloft with dazzled eyes; And then his loud applause rings round His walls of brass with brazen sound; And deep below his cheering loud I mark the murmur of the crowd.
