I

Our country is not rock and wood and stream, But soul transfusing them. What is the soul? The substance, born of God, above control And, when one, with God's love, called "Will," supreme; And Freedom is the soul in thought, and dream That Nature's beauty and harmonious whole-- God's foot-steps--followed, life attains its Goal; And soul is purpose to achieve God's scheme.

The soul, then,--our true country,--is the brave Who fought and bled for Freedom, or will fight To their last pulse, last breath, for Human Right.---- Great soul! oh, how like bubbles in the wave, Are the Sierras in cerulean flight, To thy true grandeur, letting nought enslave!