I'll Meet The Raging Of The Skies,

O Leave This Barren Spot To Me! Spare, Woodman, Spare The Beechen Tree.

To Live In Hearts We Leave Behind Is Not To Die.

Ye Mariners Of England! That Guard Our Native Seas; Whose Flag Has Braved A Thousand Years, The Battle And The Breeze!

What Though My Winged Hours Of Bliss Have Been, Like Angel Visits, Few And Far Between.

But Sad As Angels For The Good Man's Sin, Weep To Record, And Blush To Give It In.