My Father-Land

Where is the minstrel's Father-land?     Where the sparks of noble spirits flew,     Where flowery wreaths for beauty grew,     Where strong hearts glowed so glad and true     For all things sacred, good and grand:     There was my Father-land.     How named the minstrel's Father-land?     O'er slaughtered son 'neath tyrants' yokes,     She weepeth now and foreign strokes;     They called her once the Land of Oaks     Land of the Free the German Land:     Thus was called my Father-land.     Why weeps the minstrel's Father-land?     Because while tyrant's tempest hailed     The people's chosen princes quailed,     And all their sacred pledges failed;     Because she could no ear command,     Alas must weep my Father-land.     Whom calls the minstrel's Father-land?     She calls on heaven with wild alarm     With desperation's thunder-storm     On Liberty to bare her arm,     On Retribution's vengeful hand:     On these she calls my Father-land.     What would the minstrel's Father-land?     She would strike the base slaves to the ground     Chase from her soil the tyrant hound,     And free her sons in shackles bound,     Or lay them free beneath her sand:     That would my Father-land.     And hopes the minstrel's Father-land?     She hopes for holy Freedom's sake,     Hopes that her true sons will awake,     Hopes that just God will vengeance take,     And ne'er mistakes the Avenger's hand:     Thereon relies my Father-land.