By Mary M. North
We celebrate a “day of days,”
Which saw a nation rise
Through din of battle, clash of arms,
And severed kindred ties.
This day we draw aside the veil,
And backward take a look
On stirring scenes, brought to our view,
As in an open book.
We see the lights in “old North Church”—
Those beacons burning bright—
And gallop on with Paul Revere,
Throughout that fateful night.
We fight with men at Bunker Hill,
Whose aim was good and true—
Nerved to the task by loyal hearts,
‘Neath coats of buff and blue.
With praying Washington we wait
At Valley Forge, in snow and sleet,
And see the blood-prints on the ground
From shoeless soldiers’ feet.
With thin-clad, shiv’ring, dauntless men
We cross the Delaware
To meet the foe and capture them,
And untold perils dare.
We rise with those patriots brave,
When they their names affix
To the “Declaration” broad and grand,
Of Seventeen Seventy-six.
As liberty loud it proclaims,
We hear the tones of the bell,
While echoing valley, hill and glen
The message to nations tell.
And so each year we celebrate
This day, so dear to all,
When a Nation to new life awoke,
At Freedom’s earnest call.