O LAND of our birth,
O gem of God’s earth,
O Island so strong and so fair;
Built firm as Barrule
Thy throne of Home Rule
Makes us free as thy sweet mountain air.

When fierce tempests smote
That frail little boat,
They ceased at His gentle command;
Despite all our fear,
The Saviour is near
To safeguard our dear Fatherland.

When Orry, the Dane,
In Mannin did reign,
‘Twas said he had come from above;
For wisdom from heav’n
To him had been giv’n
To rule us with justice and love.

Let storm-winds rejoice,
And lift up their voice,
No danger our homes can befall;
Our green hills and rocks
Encirlce our flocks,
And keep out the sea like a wall.

Our fathers have told
How Saints came of old,
Proclaiming the Gospel of Peace;
That sinful desires ,
Like false Baal fires,
Must die ere our troubles can cease.

Our Island, thus best,
No foe can molest;
Our grain and our fish shall increase;
From battle and sword,
Protecteth the Lord,
And crowneth our nation with peace.

Ye sons of the soil,
In hardship and toil,
That plough both the land and the sea,
Take heart while ye can,
And think of the Man
Who toiled by the Lake Galilee.

Then let us rejoice
With heart, soul and voice,
And the Lord’s promise confide;
That each single hour
We trust in His power
No evil our souls can betide.