What have we to give
To one who stands
Waiting with open hands,
Mother of many sons in many lands?
Who holds o'er land and main
Her easeless, restless reign, -
Who oft hath called her own, and ne'er hath called in vain.

What is best to give
When comes her call?
Courage that fears no fall,
And brave-eyed youth that dreadeth not at all;
Hearts strong on hope to cling, -
Hope for what years may bring,
And service void of ease, and faith unquestioning.

What hath she to give, -
What last reward
For loyal heart and sword?
What crown of victory, what princely hoard?
Honour and strength and pride,
And toil with joy allied, -
Glory and hope and fame, for which her best have died.