Answered the Lord: "'T is your friend alone, Your friend alone; Though never an hour you it shall own, You it shall own." OUR COUNTRY (1859) (See Note 4) A land there is, lying near far-northern snow, Where only the fissures life's springtime may know. But surging, the sea tells of great deeds done, And loved is the land as a mother by son. What time we were little and sat on her knee, She gave us her saga with pictures to see. We read till our eyes opened wide and moist, While nodding and smiling she mute rejoiced. We went to the fjord and in wonder beheld The ashen-gray bauta, that record of eld; Still older she stood and her silence kept, While stone-studded hows all around us slept. Our hands she then took and away o'er the hill She led to the church ever lowly and still, Where humbly our forefathers knelt to pray, And mildly she taught us: "Do ye as they!" She scattered her snow on the mountain's steep side, Then bade on swift skis her young manhood to glide; The North Sea she maddened with scourge of gales, Then bade her young manhood to hoist the sails. Of beautiful maidens she gathered a throng, To follow our daring with smiles and with song, While she sat enthroned with her saga's scroll In mantle of moonlight beneath the Pole. Then "Forward, go forward!" was borne on the wind, "With forefathers' aim and with forefathers' mind, For freedom, for Norsehood, for Norway, hurrah!" While echoing mountains voiced their hurrah. Then life-giving fountains burst forth on our sight, Then we were baptized with her spirit of might, Then gleamed o'er the mountains a vision high, That summons us onward until we die. SONG FOR NORWAY (1859) NATIONAL HYMN (See Note 5) Yes, we love this land that towers Where the ocean foams; Rugged, storm-swept, it embowers Many thousand homes. Love it, love it, of you thinking, Father; mother dear, And that night of saga sinking Dreamful to us here. This the land that Harald guarded With his hero-throng, This the land that Haakon warded, Hailed by Eyvind's song. Olaf here the cross erected, While his blood he shed; Sverre's word this land protected 'Gainst the Roman dread. Peasants whetted axes carried, Broke th' invader's blow; Tordenskjold flashed forth and harried, Lighted home the foe. Women oft to arms were leaping, Manlike in their deed; Others' lot was naught but weeping, Tears that brought their meed. Many truly were we never, But we did suffice, When in times of testing ever Worthy was the prize. For we would the land see burning, Rather than its fall; Memory our thoughts is turning Down to Fredrikshald! Harder times we bore that tried us Were cast off in scorn; In that crisis was beside us Blue-eyed freedom born. That gave father-strength for bearing Famine-need and sword, Honor death itself outwearing, And it gave accord.