Hymn of Freedom (Words, James Connolly; air, The Holy City.) Here, at her altar kneeling Sweet Freedom we adore, And swear to hold her honour As sacred as of yore Did all her holy martyrs, When, recking life as naught, They went to death to guard the faith Her love to man had brought. Cho: O Freedom! O Freedom! Thy worshipers are we Here, kneeling our allegiance We render now to Thee. And as our fathers prayed to see The glories of her face We, at her altar kneeling Beseech her longed-for grace She needs no gory sacrifice Laid on her altar stones Our pilgrimage of poverty For all our faults atones. She comes not clothed in majesty No terrors in her tone Her priesthood is of Labour Her service is our own To toil, and pain, and penury Wherever manhood dwells She speaks and lo responsive The heart of Labour swells She builds her altar in our hearts Her ritual on our lives And they who yield her service Lack not the grace that shrives. XX July01
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