  The tie that binds the British lands Is never spun of tyrant’s might; Of fair replies to just demands, Of compromise whenever right Is spun the fibre of its strands, A mighty Empire to unite. A symbol is our gracious King Of British unity of heart, A simple man to whom we cling, Of all good men the counterpart. We sing to God to “Save the King,” And mean thereby ourselves in part. The people of the British lands Are masters of their future fate, By effort of their mind and hands They glorify their Empire State, And, as the bud of thought expands, Can make new laws by calm debate. The British Empire, may it be The nucleus of that larger league, Uniting every land and sea, Eschewing wars and false intrigue, May common sense and kindness be The crowning glory of that league! |
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