This land is yours, this land is mine, can you feel her twist in pain?
With immigrants, and homeless old, are relentless hearts not shamed?
Oh beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain
Do not waste her purple mountain’s majesty above the fruited plain.
Did mercy rise, then grow despised when we stopped standing face to face?
How did we waste god’s sweet grace
Of a million dreamers to make this place
A nation of one-best-loved race?
I love you my sweet country tis of thee