The rally round the mother-land
Is spreading far and near,
For to every loyal Englishman
That mother-land is dear.
Although the salt sea rolls between,
All hearts may still be one
In that vast empire which beholds
The circuit of the sun.

Where rich Canadian homesteads
Stand 'neath the forest oak,
Where on New Zealand's pine trees
Is heard the woodman's stroke;
And where Australia's goldfields
Give forth their wealth untold,
All are as truly English
As e'er they were of old.

True to our peerless England;
True to our noble Queen -
The ruler of the greatest race
That ever yet has been;
True to the stainless banner
That floats o'er half the world,
As when, in long-past ages,
That flag was first unfurled.

Though, from the sea-girt island,
Where the empire had its birth,
The English name has spread so far
It circles all the earth,
Yet 'tis a wider England
To which this isle has grown;
Tho' her sons be scattered far and wide,
Their hearts are still her own.