Текст оригинала на английском языке
TRUTH is growing—hearts are glowing With the flame of Liberty: Light is breaking—Thrones are quaking— Hark!—the trumpet of the Free! Long, in lowly whispers breathing. Freedom wandered drearily— Still, in faith, her laurel wreathing For the day when there should be Freemen shouting—'Victory!' Now, she seeketh him that speaketh Fearlessly of lawless might; And she speedeth him that leadeth Brethren on to win the Right. Soon, the slave shall cease to sorrow— Cease to toil in agony; Yea, the cry may swell to-morrow Over land and over sea— 'Brethren, shout—ye all are free!' Freedom bringeth joy that singeth All day long and never tires: No more sadness—all is gladness In the hearts that she inspires: For, she breathes a soft compassion Where the tyrant kindled rage; And she saith to every nation— 'Brethren, cease wild war to wage: Earth is your blest heritage.' Though kings render their defender Titles, gold, and splendours gay— Lo, thy glory—warrior gory— Like a dream shall fade away! Gentle Peace her balm of healing On the bleeding world shall pour; Brethren, love for brethren feeling, Shall proclaim, from shore to shore— 'Shout—the sword shall slay no more!'
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