Chapter 48 of 52 · 58 words · ~1 min read

I.

O God! who gave Poland her wonderful dower Of faith through long ages, of strength and of glory, And now spreadst that faith like a shield o’er an hour The saddest and darkest of all in her story

CHORUS.

Great God! to thine altars we suppliants come; Give us back the blest freedom of faith, hearth, and home.