To France

WHAT is the gift we have given thee, Sister?

What is the trust we have laid in thy hand?

Hearts of our bravest, our best, and our dearest,

Blood of our blood we have sown in thy land.

What for all time will the harvest be, Sister?

What will spring up from the seed that is sown?

Freedom and peace and goodwill among Nations,

Love that will bind us with love all our own.

Bright is the path that is opening before us,

Upward and onward it mounts through the night:

Sword shall not sever the bonds that unite us

Leading the world to the fullness of light.

Sorrow hath made thee more beautiful, Sister,

Nobler and purer than ever before;

We who are chastened by sorrow and anguish

Hail thee as sister and queen evermore.