We claim these amber waves of grain, these purple mountains blessed with rain.
We call this land our own from sea to shining sea, yet it is God who made us free.
The spacious skies, the fruited plain, the rights and freedoms we retain,
The privilege we hold just to live in this great land,
Do we recognize it as a gift from God’s almighty hand?

Chorus:
America, bless God! It is He that hath made us, and not we ourselves.
Every blessing that we own is a mercy from His throne.
America, bless God.

We try to rewrite history and praise ourselves for being free.
We take unto ourselves the glory due to God.
How long can we expect Him to restrain His chastening rod?

(Chorus)

America, America, may God thy gold refine,
Til all success be nobleness and every gain divine!

(Chorus)


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