When boyhood's fire was in my blood
I read of ancient freemen
For Greece and Rome who bravely stood
Three hundred men and three men
And there I prayed I yet might see
Our fetters rent in twain
And Ireland, long a province be
A nation once again

It whisper'd too, that freedom's ark
And service high and holy
Would be prepared by feelings dark
And passion vain or lowly
For freedom comes from God's right hand
And needs a godly train
And righteous men must make our land
A nation once again

So as I grew from boy to man
I bent me to that bidding
My spirit of each selfish plan
And cruel passion ridding
For thus I hoped some day to aid
Oh, can such hope be vain
When my dear country should be made
A nation once again