Hymn of Freedom
(Words, James Connolly; air, The Holy City.)
Here, at her altar kneeling
Sweet Freedom we adore,
And swear to hold her honour
As sacred as of yore
Did all her holy martyrs,
When, recking life as naught,
They went to death to guard the faith
Her love to man had brought.
Cho: O Freedom! O Freedom!
Thy worshipers are we
Here, kneeling our allegiance
We render now to Thee.
And as our fathers prayed to see
The glories of her face
We, at her altar kneeling
Beseech her longed-for grace
She needs no gory sacrifice
Laid on her altar stones
Our pilgrimage of poverty
For all our faults atones.
She comes not clothed in majesty
No terrors in her tone
Her priesthood is of Labour
Her service is our own
To toil, and pain, and penury
Wherever manhood dwells
She speaks and lo responsive
The heart of Labour swells
She builds her altar in our hearts
Her ritual on our lives
And they who yield her service
Lack not the grace that shrives.
XX
July01
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!