Air - 'Happy Land.'
Songs of my native land,
To me how dear!
Songs of my infancy
Sweet to mine ear!
Entwined with my youthful days,
Wi' the bonny banks and braes,
Where the winding burnie strays
Murmuring near.

Strains of my native land
That thrill the soul,
Pouring the magic of
Your soft control!
Often has your minstrelsy
Soothed the pang of misery,
Winging rapid thought away
To realms on high.

Weary pilgrims
there
have rest,
Their wand'rings o'er;
There the slave, no more oppressed,
Hails Freedom's shore.
Sin shall there no more deface,
Sickness, pain, and sorrow cease,
Ending in eternal peace,
And songs of joy!

There, where the seraphs sing
In cloudless day, -
There, where the higher praise
The ransom'd pay.
Soft strains of the happy land,
Chanted by the heavenly band,
Who can fully understand
How sweet ye be!