By Andrew Strachen


When people came from a distant land,

They saw a light held in her hand,

A rock that stood within the sand,

That stood for liberty.


And now she strains to keep her hold

Upon a nation’s soul that’s sold,

A legacy so true and bold,

From sea to shining sea.


A city glowing on a hill

Forgets its Builder, forgets Him still.

With hollow morals left to fill,

Foundations soon will crumble.


Truth and lies are forced to meld;

Character and conscience have been felled.

Still the light is strained, upheld,

Revealing the forgery.


If not for the Builder’s merciful way,

We’d see the dawn of our last day.

His voice calls out, “I am the Way!”

Will we forget the truth?


And after everything we’ve tried,

In the land for which our fathers died,

Will we remember a love so wide? 

Our Creator—in our youth?

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