Rejoice, O Land! our golden Land!
Be glad, our glorious clime!
We are quit of the curse of the convict-band,
We are free from the taint of crime.

Rejoice, and be glad! for the God of all grace
Hath heard our players at length,-
And bids Australia run her new race,
As the Sun going forth in his strength!

No more shall the festering prison-bark
Bring hither its cargo of strife,
But every ship, as a Noah's Ark,
Shall pour forth love and life.

No longer Guilt, all greedy for gold,
Shall prosper, and range without fear,
But Virtue and Freedom shall live to grow old
In blessed abundance - here!

Old England's wisest, purest, and best,
Shall flock to this happier shore,-
And the good of the world from the east to the west
Shall be ours for evermore!