As the government of the United States is not in any sense founded on the Christian Religion, — as it has in itself no character of enmity against th… - Joel Barlow

In every clime, thy visage greets my eyes, In every tongue thy kindred accents rise; The thought expanding swells my heart with glee, It finds a friend, and loves itself in thee. Say then, fraternal family divine, Whom mutual wants and mutual aids combine, Say from what source the dire delusion rose, That souls like ours were ever made for foes; Why earth's maternal bosom, where we tread, To rear our mansions and receive our bread, Should blush so often for the face she bore, So long be drench'd with floods of filial gore; Why to small realms for ever rest confin'd Our great affections, meant for all mankind. Though climes divide us; shall the stream or sea, That forms a barrier 'twixt my friend and me, Inspire the wish his peaceful state to mar, And meet his falchion in the ranks of war? Not seas, nor climes, nor wild ambition's fire In nations' minds could e'er the wish inspire; Where equal rights each sober voice should guide, No blood would stain them, and no war divide. 'Tis dark deception, 'tis the glare of state, Man sunk in titles, lost in Small and Great; 'Tis Rank, Distinction, all the hell that springs From those prolific monsters, Courts and Kings.

Despise it not, ye Bards to terror steel'd, Who hurl'd your thunders round the epic field; Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing Joys that the vineyard and the still-house bring; Or on some distant fair your notes employ, And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy. I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel, My morning incense, and my evening meal, The sweets of Hasty-Pudding. Come, dear bowl, Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.

Almighty Freedom! give my venturous song
The force, the charm that to thy voice belong;
Tis thine to shape my course, to light my way,
To nerve my country with the patriot lay,
To teach all men where all their interest lies,
How rulers may be just and nations wise:
Strong in thy strength I bend no suppliant knee,
Invoke no miracle, no Muse but thee.