As down a lone valley with cedars o’erspread,
From war’s dread confusion I pensively strayed,
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired,
The winds hushed their murmurs, the thunders expired.
Perfumes as of Eden flowed sweetly along,
A voice as of angels enchantingly sung,
Columbia, Columbia to glory arise,
The queen of the world and the child of the skies.

Fair science her gate to thy sons shall unbar,
And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star.
New bards and new sages unrivalled shall soar
To fame unextinguished when time is no more.
To Thee the last refuge of virtue designed,
Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind;
There grateful to heaven with transport shall bring
To Jesus, the author of nations will sing.

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