Clang out, wild bells, your glad acclaim:
Roar, deep-mouthed cannon, honour to her name!
To her whom England loves to hail
Oldest and noblest of our noble kings,
Roar loyalty and love till Heav'n's vault rings.
Flare, ye red beacons, till the stars grow pale;
Carry o'er England's plains to ocean's wave
The exultation of a nation's voice;
Of thousands that as one rejoice
To honour her whom God has pleased to save.

Victoria, sixty years a queen!
But eighteen summers hadst thou seen,
When, 'midst thy mourning for a kinsman dead,
The nation placed upon thy sorrowing head
The burden of a crown,
And in thy young hands laid
The priceless jewel of the land's renown.
Since then Time's feet have swiftly flown;
The head that bears the diadem with age is silvery grown,
The wondrous tale of sixty years hath blest thine honoured throne!
And now once more the wild glad bells peal out,
Once more is heard the universal shout,
Once more thy broad realms ring with joy for thee,
Once more thy world-wide Empire joins to hail thy Diamond Jubilee!
Now let the brazen trumpet blare,
And let our cheering rend the air,
And let the long loud roar of shouting rise
With glory, glory, glory, to the skies;
For sixty years of power without a stain,
Sixty years of one long glorious reign,
Sixty years of peace with honour, sixty years of glorious gain!