A choice land, blest above all other lands, Since earth, reborn, rose sinless from the flood; Beloved by Him whose holy feet and hands Were pierced to pour the all-redeeming blood. Here stands the ancient Altar[4], and here stood The Ark, till borne triumphant o'er the wave-- The hungry wave that made all flesh its food, All save a few, whom godly living gave 1460 To see life's single way and shun death's dual grave[5]. The Old World, not the New, by man misnamed; Cradle and grave of mouldering nations vast; Whose stalwart spirit stature, seen, had shamed The mightiest of known empires, present, past. The land where Adam dwelt[6], where Eden cast From flaming gate the heaven-appointed pair, Who fell that man might be; a fall still chaste[7], Albeit they sinned, descending death's dread stair, To fling life's ladder down, Love's work[8] and way prepare. 1470 Here rose the Zion of primeval days[9], Type of a greater Zion yet to rise; Here Enoch's walls and towers reflung the rays, Rolled back the flooding splendors of the skies, Whose portal wide gave welcome. Upward flies The sainted city, self denied, dethroned: In all things one, their power e'en death defies: In dust they ne'er shall slumber; cleansed, condoned, They wait the final change[10], through Him who hath atoned. Here cometh up the New Jerusalem[11]; 1480 Here cometh down that risen realm of old, Jehovah's seat, earth's jeweled diadem, Joy of the world, by prophet tongues extolled. Japheth, here joined with Shem[12], finds Israel's fold, An ark of peace[13] amid a world of war. The ensign[14] on the mountains here behold! 'Tis Joseph signals Jacob[15] from afar, And points him to the goal where God and glory are. Ancient of Days[16] here sits, as at the first, When time and earth and Adam's race were young; 1490 When, bowed with age, a great soul's sunset burst In blessings on his seed. Prophetic tongue, Thy patriarchal tone through time hath rung! Michael, the prince, the monarch of our race, Sire of a world from dust and spirit sprung; Here sits he, throned in fire; before his face Ten thousand times ten thousand throng the judgment place. Wherefore this land must unpolluted be; Or, if defiled, by blood again made clean From grime of sin, from grind of tyranny; 1500 Free from the ills that other lands have seen, Free from the blots that now dim freedom's sheen. No nation by vain boasting shall abide; Bid thine beware, lest here the sanguine scene Reacted be, and ruin, spawn of pride, Spring from the soil where nations great as thine have died.