Flag Of The Free

Flag of the free, our sable sires             Have borne thee oft before         Into hot battles' hell-lit fires,             Against the fiercest foe.         When first he shook his shaggy mein,             And made the welkin ring,         Brave Attucks fell upon the Plain,             Thy stripes first crimsoning!         Thy might and majesty we hurl,             Against the bolts of Mars;         And from thy ample folds unfurl             Thy field of flaming stars!         Fond hope to nations in distress,             Thy starry gleam shall give;         The stricken in the wilderness             Shall look to thee and live.         What matter if where Boreas roars,             Or where sweet zephyr smiles?         What matter if where eagle soars,             Or in the sunlit isles?         Thy flowing crimson stripes shall wave          Above the bluish brine;         Emblazoned ensign of the brave,             And Liberty enshrine!         Flag of the free, still float on high             Through every age to come;         Bright beacon of the azure sky,             True light of Freedom's dome.         'Till nations all shall cease to grope             In vain for liberty--         O shine, last lingering star of hope             Of all humanity!