Store up for yourselves treasures in Heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. Matthew 6:20
Great and fair is she, our land,
High of heart and strong of hand;
Dawn is on her forehead still,
In her veins youth’s arrowy thrill.
Hers are riches, might and fame;
All the earth resounds her name;
In her roadsteads navies ride:
Hath she need of aught beside?
Power unseen, before whose eyes
Nations fall and nations rise,
Grant she climb not to her goal
All-forgetful of the soul!
Firm in honor be she found,
Justice-armed and mercy-crowned,
Blest in labor, blest in ease,
Blest in noiseless charities.
Unenslaved by things that must
Yield full soon to moth and rust,
Let her hold a light on high
Men unborn may travel by.
Mightier still she then shall stand,
Molded by Thy secret hand,
Power eternal, at whose call
Nations rise and nations fall.